


Take Good Care of Him For Me

by AM505



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Armie can't stop loving Timmy, Break Up, Cheating, Dark, Fame is dangerous, Gang Rape, Heartbreak, HurtTimmy, Illnesses, Loneliness, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mpreg, Pregnancy complications, ProtectiveArmie, Public herassment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovery, Rumors, Sexual Violence, Slut Shaming, Unhappy Ending, Unwanted Pregnancy, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-04-20 09:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14257497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AM505/pseuds/AM505
Summary: Ever since the public learned about their affair, Armie and Timothée have been staying away from each other. Armie chose to put his marriage first and consequently, Timmy has been demoted to live in isolation and misery.One year later, Timmy returns to LA only to see that life has treated Armie kindly. His reputation remains intact, while Timothée's has been ruined: Having been branded a slut and a homewrecker by the media, Timmy realises that his love for Armie has cost him everything.Concerned for Timothée's safety as the younger man is continuously herassed and humiliated in public, Armie invites his ex-lover into his and Elizabeth's home, wanting to take care of him.However, Armie fails to realise that Timmy is in serious danger, and that he is responsible for it.





	1. Goodbye New York, Goodbye Safety

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> So this is all inspired by an idea that popped into my head weeks ago and I haven't been able to shake it since. 
> 
> Even though the warnings should speak for themselves, I feel like I want to make it clear that this fic, unfortunately, isn't going to have a happy ending. It's going to be rather dark and disturbing at times, but I promise that in the end, this will remain a love story between Armie and Timmy.
> 
> I will of course continue to apply warnings for each chapter, when needed. 
> 
> Please note that even though this story will detail cheating and heartbreak, I will try to avoid negative descriptions of jealousy, and I will definitely avoid any sort of Elizabeth-bashing. 
> 
> I hope to write this as respectfully as I can, to all characters.
> 
> Thanks a lot for giving this story a chance - I hope it won't just be an emotional mess xx

In the end, leaving behind the city that he’d been raised in and had treasured dearly hadn’t been a tough decision for him to make.

The New York paparazzi had been bad for a long time, but had turned downright nasty with him towards the end of that summer. They had decided that he was massively hyped and should continue to be so. They had decided that he was front page material, hot stuff and good gossip, and they had soon become these terrifying bloodhounds, following him everywhere, invading his privacy, walking all over his human rights like he was a piece of property, an object for them to profit from, even if it meant kicking him to the ground and smothering him in their flash lights repeatedly, day after day. 

They had it in for him and it wasn’t long until they had managed to manipulate others to join in. 

There were days when adult men would run up to him in the street and yell mean things while they pointed their phones in his face. They would either treat him like trash, or they would treat him like a child who would, hopefully, either burst into tears or shout back at them, making way for great footage that could expose his stupid, immature nature to the rest of the world.

When instead he chose to turn around and storm off, hoping to outrun them all, they never failed to chase after him. The hunt was intense and desperate. They would film him as he ran. They saved their pictures for when he was cornered and had no other way to turn but to face the camera lenses. 

Their questions were overly personal, humiliating and offensive. It was always made to be about sex, or rather, his sexuality. Despite being so young, this was what the media had reduced him to; a lost and confused boy who was forced to reveal himself to any predator out there, keen to buy yet another story about him as a vulnerable, helpless little victim. They would forever put him in connection with older men. They would forever speculate in his love affairs, claiming to catch him in the arms of male co-stars, or directors who were all twice his age. 

‘The teenage gold-digger,’ some had branded him, despite him being in his early twenties, despite him having avoided sexual relationships for over a year now.

‘Promiscuous twink Timothée Chalamet…’ others specified.

Other headlines were more elaborate.

‘Out and proud Hollywood heartthrob Timothée Chalamet looked like the perfect little tease this evening when he entered the red carpet accompanied by his American mother, hence keeping fans in the dark as to who his latest Sugar Daddy might be…’ 

‘With a French name, glossy green eyes, a head full of dark-brown curls, and a slim, youthful body, it has been rumoured to only be a matter of time before Timothée Chalamet shows off his latest conquest at his next public event. Chalamet, 22, was last year caught in the arms of his older co-star and private mentor, Armie Hammer… The two of them were spotted leaving a local restaurant together after allegedly having enjoyed a romantic dinner over the candlelights. They were caught smooching and cuddling up to each other later in the evening as fans managed to track them down in the street. According to multiple witnesses, Chalamet and Hammer had been headed towards a nearby hotel when they had found themselves suddenly surrounded. It isn’t hard to imagine what their plans might have been for the rest of the evening…’

‘After getting caught committing adultery with his younger co-star, Timothée Chalamet who barely looks a day older than sixteen, Armie Hammer has made several appearances together with his wife, TV personality Elizabeth Chambers. It appears that Chambers has agreed to take Hammer back despite his misstep and in interview, Hammer has publically expressed his unremitting devotion and love for her, explaining that she will always be his number one. Meanwhile, Chalamet, who must be devastated after getting sacked as Hammer’s personal bum-boy, hasn’t been spotted with any other married men since…’

‘When is Chalamet intending to break up his next marriage? Whose husband is he going for next time, and will he eventually persuade someone rich and famous to settle down with him, divorce his wife for him and spend all his money on him? With a slender, tight little body, bedroom eyes that scream for sex, and a sweet, innocent, yet devilish smile, who could possibly say no?’

He had cried the first few times he’d read the stories about him in the press. He had felt sorry for himself. Not long after that, however, his despair was replaced by anger.

His downstairs neighbour was amongst the people who had turned against him and ratted him out. One night, after Timothée had brought home a date for a glass of wine, not because he wanted sex, not even because he wanted to make out with him, but because he had simply enjoyed talking with someone his own age, Mrs. Allen who lived on the third floor had caught the two of them in the doorway. He had been able to read her face straight away and he had been fully aware that she didn’t approve. What he hadn’t expected, though, was that she would care enough to sell the story to a third party.

The story became a grossly manipulated version of the actual event, of course.

She had spoken to a couple of journalists the next day, claiming to have been kept up all night long by the loud banging of Timothée’s bed bashing against the wall repeatedly, followed by obscene moaning and yelling. She had made him out to be slutty and perverted, claiming that Timothée hadn’t even known the name of the guy he’d brought home. When the journalists liked her story so much that they had started taking pictures of the apartments from outside, she had decided to make some easy money and sell them a bunch of other lies.

She had eventually told them that she heard Timothée bringing home a new stranger with him every single night, sometimes women, though most often men, though apparently, sometimes multiple people at once. She claimed he had orgies. She claimed he did drugs. She claimed that he came on to any man who even looked in his direction. She claimed that he would let himself get fucked by just about anyone, keeping no standards whatsoever. 

Timothée had ended his tenancy and moved out of there a month after that episode took place. 

If he had ever had any doubts about leaving New York behind, he no longer hesitated. The city that had once embraced and excited a previously anonymous young boy was now less welcoming. He felt watched everywhere he went. He felt talked about, misunderstood. He felt pushed out of his old life, out of previously safe and happy surroundings. 

The media had been wrong about him when they claimed that he was nothing but a common fuckboy, partying his nights away and looking for the next stranger to invite him into their bed.

Because most nights, Timothée was on his own, choosing to hide away from the rest of the world. He had grown isolated. Scared to open up to anyone he didn’t know. 

He felt lonelier than he had ever thought it possible at such a young age. 

He never went partying. 

He didn’t look for money or fame. 

He wasn’t happy and he wasn’t in the prime of his life, despite the success he had most recently had in his career.

He was miserable. 

He was heart-broken.

He was in love.

 

*

 

It had become apparent to him that if he truly needed a fresh start, L.A. was his most sensible choice. He had more than a few friends living in the city, even his uncle who was in the same business as him was settled down here, and considering his profession, it was without a doubt the place for a young, aspiring actor to be. 

It made sense. It felt safe. He wouldn’t be alone here. 

However, he was forgetting that while it was worth it escaping New York’s unkindness and public abuse, L.A. had its own ghosts lurking around every corner on his route.

One in particular he dreaded.

Its name was Armie. 

Timothée had been in town for nearly a week before Armie heard the news of his arrival. 

He got in touch with him immediately, asking for them to meet up. 

When Armie had asked him for an address and had insisted on picking him up in his car, Timothée knew that he would be wondering who he was staying with and why he hadn’t tried to make arrangements with him first. Armie, or at least the Armie that he used to know, would have invited him in without hesitation, of course he would. Elizabeth, too. Their house was more than big enough. They loved having people over and the two of them hadn’t seen each other for so long, it would have been the perfect opportunity to catch up.

Now, however, everything was different and Timothée thought it best to keep his head down and wait for his former co-star to make the first move.

Armie parked his car outside his house and honked the horn cheekily, signaling for Timothée to hurry up.

Timothée had walked up to him, greeting him with a timid smile, and as Armie had stepped out of the car, he had made an attempt to pull the older man in for a hug. Armie, however, had dodged, and it was awkward. He busied himself as he opened the car door for Timothée, grinning at him sunnily. 

It appeared that he didn’t want any bodily contact with him. Not yet. At least not in public.

Timothée couldn’t blame him. He had been a fool to ever trust himself around him in the first place. Just looking into Armie’s eyes made the breath hitch in his throat and his heart skip a beat. He was a fool for him. Always had been, always would be. Armie was just like the city of L.A. He was a ray of sunshine when Timothée found himself trapped in the dark. He radiated warmth and happiness. Once he drew you in, you felt like you could never be without him again.

Armie was so different from himself, Timothée realised. He was all smiles and sunny afternoons, all tanned skin, blond hair and blue eyes. He was manly, handsome. Adored by numbers. Comfortable in his own skin. Timothée felt like a mere boy in comparison. He felt stupid and unaware. He took one look at himself and thought that while Armie was bright like the sun, he himself was pale like the moon, and ten times as melancholic. 

These days, his own eyes were mostly dull, lifeless and reserved as he had made a habit out of shying away, guarding himself as he was expecting any stranger in the street to be conspiring against him, but Armie’s – Armie’s eyes were forever happy and carefree, forever blue skies and calm waters. You could lose yourself in there, but if you thought about drowning in them, he would always fish you straight up before you had the chance to disappear beneath the surface, bringing you back to safety instead.

Armie didn’t want Timothée to drown in him. It seemed that every time the boy was pulled in, sometimes without even being aware of it, Armie was quick to push him away again.

Armie was good at pretending not to notice Timothée’s staring at him. He was good at casual conversation. He was good at making things easier whenever Timothée couldn’t stop punishing himself for his own cruel, deceitful heart working against him. 

“You look good,” he told Armie as they had found a local diner and settled down at one of the tables in the back, hoping to be able to talk privately. He tried to sound casual, like this was something he told all of his friends whenever he hadn’t been in touch for a couple of months. “It’s been a while,” he then added, hesitating.

Armie read his face easily and gave him a sympathetic smile. The kid was trying his hardest, he could tell.

“I would tell you the same, but you look like you haven’t slept much lately,” spoke the older man as he reached across the table to touch Timothée’s arm gently. Timothée nearly flinched at his touch, but he managed to stop himself. “You’re looking like you haven’t eaten much, either,” Armie added, pulling a worried face.

He genuinely cared, that much Timothée knew. But his concern reminded him of the one of a father talking to his teenage son. It wasn’t what he needed from him and they both knew it.

“I – I have been really busy moving my stuff, I suppose. And it’s cheaper not to eat, so…”

Armie didn’t even realise he was joking.

“For crying out loud, T!” He had exclaimed with accusation. “You should have said! I can’t believe you haven’t been buying food. I can help you with money, you know that!”

“Oh my God, I was just kidding,” Timmy uttered quickly, feeling slightly mortified at Armie’s reaction. “Armie, relax. I’m fine, really.”

He forced a giggle, but Armie wasn’t convinced.

“I know you’ve just had to give up your tiny shithole of an apartment,” the blond man scoffed. “I can’t help but to worry that you’re struggling. When did you last get paid? Where can you even afford to live?”

“Armie, I would never ask you for money,” Timmy assured him, though he had to avert his eyes. “And it’s not like I need to, either. I didn’t leave New York because I was broke.”

“No? Why did you leave then?”

“Because…” Because he didn’t have a single friend there anymore. Because he couldn’t even walk to the gym anymore without getting shouted at in the street, or photographed, or touched by strangers. Because he would have killed himself if he had stayed… “Because it’s easier to find work here. Because I’ve missed seeing my Californian friends.” 

“Your Californian friends?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t come here because of me. Did you?”

God. He had almost forgotten how self-absorbed Armie could be sometimes.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Timothée had spoken seriously, looking him in the eyes. “I’m not here to stalk you. I – I wouldn’t…”

Armie leaned back in his seat, looking uncomfortable for a moment. 

“It could make things complicated,” he warned the younger man. “You being here. Us seeing each other on a regular basis. It’s too soon.”

Timmy felt his stomach drop. He felt humiliated by Armie’s suspicion. 

“I already told you, me moving here has nothing to do with you. I’ve been good at keeping my distance so far, haven’t I? I haven’t been calling, I haven’t been bothering you or your family.” 

Armie never answered his question.

“Who are you staying with at the moment?” He asked him instead, putting on a feigned, nonchalant voice. Timothée realised then that his very presence had made Armie nervous. There was nothing he could do about it. He was still not over what happened last year. He hadn’t forgiven him for the rumours yet. The pictures.

“A couple of friends I grew up with in New York,” he told Armie truthfully, having nothing to hide from him. “They moved to L.A. six months ago, looking for work.” 

“Are they actors, too, these housemates of yours?” Armie asked him, even though he didn’t care much about them at all.

“Dancers,” Timmy replied simply, deciding not to waste the older man’s time. “One of them does photography, too.”

Armie hesitated.

“Do they treat you well? Your friends. Do they look out for you, T?”

“They invited me into their home, didn’t they?” Timmy forced a smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not on my own, not anymore.”

Of course he was. Armie had left him in utter isolation and misery and he knew it. 

Armie hadn’t suffered the consequences of their past mistake like Timothée had. While the newspapers had branded Timothée both a homewrecker and a slut, they had gone surprisingly easy on Armie. Instantly forgiving him for having been caught cheating on his beautiful wife, the mother of his children, they had left his reputation and good name undamaged. 

Armie Hammer was one of Hollywood’s beloved golden boys and the media were all in favour of him. He came from a good family that represented straight, white, traditional Christian values. He was American. Proud. Moneyed. Strong.

Timothée Chalamet, on the other hand, was nothing but a pathetic lapdog with a foreign, slightly outlandish name. He was less masculine; almost brittle and feminine-looking. He was less famous, less influential and easier to trash. Easier to shoot down. He had no protector and he couldn’t afford a lawyer. 

Armie knew that he had let himself off the hook by keeping his distance rather than publically defending Timothée. By not addressing what had happened between them, by not owning up to what was equally his fault, he had chosen to let people believe the story that the media were selling: That Timmy had been young and reckless, desperately needy, clingy, insatiable, impossible to satisfy, and that Armie, kind and good-natured, had merely taken pity on him. 

“Have they been hard on you?” Armie asked him suddenly, acknowledging the fact that there was a subject being avoided. “The paparazzi, I mean.”

He wore a guilty look on his face and Timmy very nearly fell for it. 

The young man shrugged his shoulders, finding it not only difficult, but oddly hurtful to talk about. People had laughed at him. Dragged his name through the mud. It had been like a public lynching and Armie had simply chosen to turn a blind eye to it, pretending not to know as he himself was protected by his friends and relatives here in sunny L.A. 

It was too little, too late for him to pretend to regret his decisions now.

“I don’t care what the paparazzi write about me,” Timmy lied, finding it impossible to open up to the man he had once been so intimate with and known so well. He no longer knew how to ask Armie for help and even if he did, he wasn’t sure that he was going to receive it. “I’m okay.”

Armie bit his lip, looking mournful.

“T…” He whispered sadly, letting out a prolonged sigh. “I’m really sorry for what happened. You know that, right? I didn’t mean to let you face it all alone. I would have been there for you, it’s just that-“

“You had to protect your family,” Timmy cut him off. He forced a calmer smile this time. “Elizabeth and the kids. I get it. It would have been horrible if they had been dragged into this.” 

Armie fell speechless, feeling suddenly ashamed to be confronted by the truth. He had chosen his marriage over his lover, his friend and colleague, but had he needed to turn his back on him like he had? Had it really been necessary for him to stay quiet all these months when he could have made things so much easier for Timmy? 

“I never meant to hurt you,” Armie muttered tenderly, finally unable to hold his apology back. “I never meant to take advantage…”

But after all this time, Timmy was still not ready to hear it.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” he said rapidly, after which he got up from the table, pretending to need the toilet. “It’s all in the past, isn’t it? I’m doing so much better these days, I swear. All I had to do was leave New York.” 

After they had left the diner, Armie gave Timmy a ride home which for the most part was spent in uncomfortable silence. Armie kept catching Timmy looking out the window and turning his face away from him. They were struggling to be around each other and act natural at the same time. They were struggling to read each other’s thoughts and intentions, though this had once seemed like the easiest thing to do, back when they had been close and had spent every week in each other’s company. 

Armie wondered if there was a way for them to ever have that connection again. 

“You’re not happy. Are you?” Armie had finally asked the question as boldly as he could. He had parked the car outside the house of Timmy’s new address and knowing that he had only so many seconds before the brunette was to simply open the car door and let himself out, Armie had seized the opportunity to have an honest word with him. “Timmy, please. Look at me,” he pled. 

Timmy turned his head reluctantly, his face pale and troubled. Armie’s eyes burrowed into his, unwilling to let him go.

“You’re not happy,” Armie concluded sadly. It was no longer a question. He saw it. “Do you feel lonely? Do you have anyone here you can actually talk to?”

Timmy licked his lips slowly, taking his time. When he locked eyes with Armie again, he felt his guts churning painfully, making him feel dizzy.

“I don’t want to burden you,” he spoke contritely and his cheeks were burning red-hot with shame.

He stepped out of the car without speaking another word to Armie.


	2. Invitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie makes an offer to let Timothée back in his life.
> 
> Timothée never thought he'd be so torn about the terms and conditions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the positive feedback so far! I really appreciate it <3

Throughout the next couple of weeks, Armie found himself inviting Timothée along to every social gathering taking place around him. Anything from a house warming party next door, to a poker game, to golf lessons, to watching a sports game with a group of friends, to bar crawls – for all of those things, Armie suddenly longed to brighten and improve his slightly obligatory plans with just the promise of Timothée’s presence. It wasn’t just an attempt to break the ice between them; it was a moment of weakness and pure self-indulgence in Armie, too. 

After a couple of weeks of receiving rejections from the younger man, he even made arrangements to throw a party of his own as he secretly hoped that Timothée would feel drawn in and tempted to re-visit the Hammer-Chambers household. He suddenly regretted his own caution as the two of them had been together for a painfully superficial catch-up. He regretted keeping his distance when truthfully, he should have reached out to the other. Timothée deserved better than to be greeted with suspicion, although Armie had been genuinely surprised to hear that he had left New York for good. He had missed the kid for what seemed so long now, he had almost gotten used to the idea of living with a permanent yearning, a constant lack of fulfillment, and now that Timothée was back in town, Armie was struggling to have him near again.

That being said, Timothée was rarely near to him at all. 

Though a significant distance had been closed between them, this accomplishment hadn’t exactly succeeded in bringing them together.

Timothée declined his invitation to Armie’s house party, offering the older man nothing but a sorry excuse – something about being busy, ignoring the fact that they both knew how open his schedule was after leaving his old life behind.

Every now and again, Armie briefly wondered if Timmy’s life had been ruined because of him. He hadn’t exactly been gracious with the kid over the last twelve months. He had sent him mixed signals, causing them both to feel confused and insecure around each other. 

Sometimes he felt like making it up to him, even if it meant making things awkward by asking for forgiveness. However, in order to even be able to do so, Armie realised that he had to see Timmy, one way or another.

When Timmy didn’t appear willing to come to his house, Armie praised himself lucky to eventually seal the deal and make plans with him in public. They gathered one night at a bar downtown, however, Armie suspected that Timmy had only let himself be persuaded after hearing that they wouldn’t be alone with one another, that a couple of Armie’s friends would tag along. This way, it would be supposedly safe. With people around them, they were less likely to forget themselves as they would be forced to keep up appearances.

Timothée was pleasantly surprised to see that amongst his friends, Armie had brought Nick with whom he had bonded so easily from the moment they were introduced to one another. Like Armie, Nick was both chatty and funny, which Timothée appreciated now more than ever. The young brunette was enjoying himself immensely, having missed being out, and he found himself doubling over with laughter and getting lost in conversation. This was everything that he had had to live without in New York; for the first time in a while, he felt safe, protected by a wonderful crowd of people. He no longer had to worry about being seen, or followed, or yelled at. 

This was healthy. He finally felt like a real person again, like he had been brought back from the dead. Finally, he was with people who seemed to know him for who he was and not for whoever the media painted him out to be. People smiled at him, welcomed him back, acting truly interested when they asked him how he had been. Perhaps he had enjoyed himself a little too much, contrary to what he had expected from this evening. Because towards the end of the night, Armie seemed restless. Impatient.

Armie, who hadn’t had a moment alone with him all night, pulled Timmy aside and asked him to join him outside for a smoke.

Timmy had smirked at that.

“You know I don’t smoke.”

Armie rolled his eyes at him. God, there was a time when Timmy had always been able to interpret his intentions. 

“No, I’m not talking about a cigarette,” Armie corrected him, making Timmy feel slightly stupid, “I mean, let’s go outside for a drag. You know… A draaag.”

When he finally caught on, Timmy raised his eyebrows and looked over his shoulder, in case someone was eavesdropping on them.

“Oh,” he said, blushing, “gotcha.” 

Five minutes later, Armie was leaning up against the wall in the alleyway, inhaling slowly before passing on his joint to Timothée. Already, the tensions were leaving his body and he found it a lot easier to smile and mean it at the same time.

Timmy inhaled, too, though he had cocked an eyebrow when he had realised that the two of them were sharing. He brought the thin filter of the cigarette to his mouth, putting his lips where Armie’s had just been. 

“You know,” Armie spoke slowly, blinking hazily as the effect kicked in, “you can come to my house if you want. You don’t have to be a stranger. The kids haven’t seen you in so long, they really miss you.”

Timmy stilled himself, feeling uncomfortable. Was this the weed talking or was Armie trying to be sincere? 

“Is that so?” He responded uncertainly, not knowing what else to say. He forced a chuckle, but it ended up sounding hollow. “I don’t know. I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”

He passed the joint back to Armie.

“Why not? Have I ever given you the impression that you’re no longer welcome?”

Armie’s voice sounded gentle, but when he reached over to accept the cigarette back, his fingers brushed against Timmy’s by accident and he flinched as though stung by the younger man’s touch.

Timmy didn’t fail to notice the way that Armie retrieved his hand without hesitation.

“Why would you even want me there?” Timmy decided to ask him, frowning. “I bet Liz hates my guts. I bet I’d only upset Harper and Ford.”

“How can you say that?” Armie asked wretchedly. “You used to hang around the house all the time. Do you think Harper’s forgotten how you used to spend hours down on the floor so the two of you could play with her dolls together?” Armie huffed, feeling oddly saddened and smitten by the memory all at once. “As for Liz, she misses you, too. She tells me all the time now that she knows you’re back. She keeps telling me to invite you over for dinner. She could never hate you, T, I don’t even know where you have that silly notion from.” 

Timmy straightened his back and let out a small sigh. He couldn’t tell if Armie was manipulating him or not. If he went back to their house and Elizabeth looked him in the eyes and she knew – if she fucking knew – all the things that Timmy had allowed Armie to do to him only twelve months ago, he would die of shame. 

There certainly wouldn’t be any coming back from the humiliation.

“If she doesn’t hate me,” he uttered, swallowing a lump in his throat, “that must mean that she doesn’t know. You never told her what happened. Did you?”

Armie was slow to respond.

“I did tell her,” he said unconvincingly, cringing at the sound of his own voice. “It’s true, I really did. I just don’t think I managed to tell her the whole truth.”

“Armie…”

“I tried, but she seems to think that what we did was harmless. She told me that there were no hard feelings. She said that the media were clearly toying with the facts, making the affair look so much worse than it was. She keeps saying that she trusts us both, that she knows you would never do anything to come between us. I’m serious, T. You don’t have to hide from her, she’s never blamed you for anything.”

Armie was expecting Timmy to feel relieved, but the young man looked even more discontented than before. 

“You probably told her that it meant nothing to you,” Timmy remarked darkly, staring down at his own feet, “seeing as she finds the whole thing harmless. Is that what you told her, Armie? That it was a drunken mistake and that it would never happen again? Because it meant nothing to you?”

Armie felt the frustration seizing his chest and he very nearly took another drag in order to loosen up, in order to calm himself down. He decided against it. His brain was foggy enough already. He hadn’t expected the conversation to take such a twist and his head couldn’t keep up with his emotions.

“What do you want me to say?” He asked Timmy softly, offering him a pleading look. “Had you expected me to tell my wife how madly in love with you I was? Had you expected me to defend our actions to her? Timmy, I – I don’t even know if that would be the truth. If we were in love or just being selfish.” 

Timmy wanted to abandon his love for Armie then, wanted to dish out some of that pent-up anger he had been carrying with him all alone, or maybe he secretly wanted to cry, to sob, and to ask Armie what it had all been for. If Armie had never loved him in the first place, Timmy’s life had been ruined for nothing.

And yet, he couldn’t cry, nor yell. The lump in his throat was so big, he could barely even speak.

“I wish…” He started, though when he felt himself choking up, he cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I wish you had made up your mind about being in love with me or not before sticking your tongue down my throat.” He wiped at his eyes silently, hoping that Armie hadn’t noticed him welling up. “You knew how I felt about you. If you didn’t love me, you should have just let me down gently and spared me all the game-playing. I’m going back inside.”

“Timmy! Wait!”

And then Armie reacted without thinking and said the stupidest thing he could have possibly said. Rather than pulling Timmy into his arms or pushing him back up against the wall, drowning the kid’s sorrow in kisses and apologies, Armie pulled him back by his elbow and broke his heart even worse.

“I think I know how to make this easier for you,” he had said, causing Timmy to look up at him in confusion. Armie had wiped at Timmy’s tears absent-mindedly, wanting desperately to make everything better, if only his stupid mind wasn’t flying high as a kite. 

Even Timmy had expected Armie to kiss him for a moment, but instead, Armie told him:

“I think you would find it easier to be around Liz and the kids again if you brought a date with you.”

Timmy froze, feeling completely disillusioned by that statement.

“Excuse me?”

Armie instantly detected his own foolishness.

“Look,” he sighed, cursing his own brain for working so slow, even as he continued to hold Timmy in a death-grip, refusing to let him go, “I’m just saying that… Maybe you’ll find it a lot easier to forget about last year if you, you know… moved on. Just a little bit.”

Timmy felt out of breath. It was like Armie had elbowed him in the stomach, leaving him completely winded.

“Are you telling me to start dating again?” Asked the younger man disbelievingly. “Is that what this is about? You’re worried I’m too hung up on you?”

“I don’t mean to sound self-centrered,” Armie lamented, “and I don’t mean to sound patronising. I’m sorry, T, it’s just – I want you to be happy. I don’t want to see you all alone like this.”

Feeling humiliated and belittled, Timmy tore his arm out of Armie’s grasp.

“Maybe I like being single,” he hissed with annoyance, looking for a way to hit back at Armie, though this was something he had never been good at. “Maybe I like being alone. Maybe I don’t spend my nights at home, just pining for you, Armie. Did you ever think of that? I have a life! I can exist just fine without you…”

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Armie defended himself, though he barely knew what to say at this point. “All I’m trying to say is… We could be friends again. You could come visit us again. If you came over and you brought a new boyfriend with you, or girlfriend, I don’t know what you prefer these days, we wouldn’t have anything to worry about. Liz would never have to be suspicious of us, she would know that you are over me. There would be no more guilt. Do you know what I’m saying?”

Yeah, unfortunately he did. 

The message was loud and clear: They were over. Armie was trying to put it into kinder words than that, but this was nonetheless the essence of it all. This was what he wanted: To end their love so that they could be friends again, so that Timmy’s very presence would no longer be a threat to his marriage.

Timmy wasn’t able to see things rationally, though. Not at first.

Instead of telling Armie everything that had been wrong about his assumptions to settle for an easy solution, Timothée let himself get carried away by his upset.

“What do you even know about guilt, Armie?” He spat at the older man, turning away from him. “You let me take the full blame for what we did together and you weren’t even man enough to tell your wife that you liked it – that I was more than just a good lay? Go fuck yourself!”

Armie was speechless. 

His arms fell limply to his sides and he was too stunned to make a second move. He thought about running after Timmy, but in a split second, the brunette had already left and disappeared into the night. Alone.

 

*

 

Two weeks later, though, Armie got what he wanted.

When he had figured that it would be safe to get in touch with Timothée again without starting another argument and simultaneously bring up the idea of him coming over for dinner, an idea which Elizabeth kept prompting him for relentlessly, Armie was surprised and, frankly, crushed to learn that Timothée had surrendered and taken his advice. 

This time, the two of them had settled for speaking over the phone. 

“I, uh – this is kind of embarrassing,” Timothée had started self-consciously, alerting Armie. “I know I wasn’t exactly on board with it to begin with, but…”

“But what?” Armie had asked worriedly. “T, is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Timmy had drawled, sounding uncomfortable. “Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just… Well, I ended up thinking about your suggestion and…”

“And?”

“And… I would like to bring a date if the offer still stands.” The younger man let out a deep breath, sounding nervous. “I mean… If that’s okay with you of course.” 

Armie’s mouth fell open, but he didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t foreseen his own disappointment. He hadn’t thought that he would actually grow to regret his own rash, idiotic proposal. What had he even been thinking, urging Timothée to move on and fall in love with someone else? He had been way out of line. He had had no right to suggest something like this. Had he even meant it? He certainly hadn’t had any idea what he had been talking about and he certainly hadn’t predicted the way that his own stupidity would come back to bite him in the ass. 

He felt like such a moron.

Armie’s mouth had gone dry, but he forced himself to speak the words:

“Wow, I – of course that’s okay. T, I’m really happy for you!” 

He feigned a small laugh. He forced himself to smile, even though it physically hurt.

“It’s just a date,” Timmy reminded him, sensing Armie’s shock. “But thanks.”

“Still, I mean… A date is a great first step.” Armie was chewing his lip so hard that it almost bled. “How long have you been seeing each other for? Where do you know him from? Or is it a her?” 

“It’s a him,” Timmy smiled self-consciously, wishing Armie would stop making such a big deal out of something so trivial. “We’ve only been on two dates so far.”

Two dates! Armie could have wept… He had only come up with this idiotic idea two weeks ago! Timothée had wasted no time getting over him.

“He’s the older brother of one of my housemates,” Timmy elaborated slowly, “so I guess I’ve known him for years. He actually asked me out a couple of years back, but I felt too weird about it, seeing as I’m friends with his brother. But when I bumped into him the other day and he decided to ask me again I thought, why not?” He paused again, hoping that Armie would say something, but he didn’t. “Really, it’s no big deal,” he added slightly anxiously, “we’re not really an item as such, we’re just… getting to know each other.” 

Armie swallowed, though his mouth remained dry.

“Getting to know each other,” he repeated. “Timmy, that’s great. Really – I’m happy to hear this. Liz is going to be so excited when I tell her.”

“Excited? Because I have a date?”

“No, not just that,” Armie chuckled, cringing at himself, “I meant, she’ll be happy that I’ve finally persuaded you to come over. I told you, she’s been going on about it for weeks now.”

“I know, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to avoid her, or the kids, I was just worried that…” Timmy faltered.

“That what?”

“That it would be awkward between us.” 

Armie sighed.

“Why would it be awkward?” He spoke as softly as he could, pretending not to realise. “Timmy, I’m sorry if we ended on a bad note last time we were together. I – I was high. And drunk. And I was being insensitive. I promise you, all I want is for you to be happy. I never meant to offend you.”

“…”

“I promise I will be on my best behaviour for you and… and…” Armie paused intentionally.

“Oh. Travis,” Timmy uttered clumsily, forgetting himself, “his name is Travis.”

“Travis,” Armie repeated, secretly hating the name and the person already. “Great. I promise, we’ll have a nice time together. All of us. You have nothing to worry about.”

Timmy didn’t reply. In his mind, Armie’s confession to perhaps never having loved him at all was repeating like a broken record, urging him to stop reminiscing about something that couldn’t have been real.


	3. Charades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy finds that his dinner date at Armie and Elizabeth's is slowly beginning to go awry. Armie takes a strong dislike to Timmy's date, though he is obviously not jealous. 
> 
> Timmy struggles to pretend that he's over Armie and ready to find love with Travis, who is more than ready to take things further.
> 
> In the meantime, Harper finds it strange to see two boys holding hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the positive feedback, it really means a lot <3 
> 
> Here's a bit of Armie trying to look out for Timothée, though this doesn't change the fact that he's been a jerk, too. Next chapter is pretty much finished already, so hopefully I will be able to update again soon.

As one could have guessed from the beginning, Armie grew to dislike Travis even further when he met him in person.

The guy was everything Armie had feared that he would be. He was tall and muscular, even bigger than Armie himself. He was fit, but worse yet, he was good-looking and strangely attractive with his short, tidy, chestnut-brown hair and even browner eyes. However, the most unforgiving feature of his had nothing to do with his looks. It was his hands. Big and strong and so god-damn busy. Shameless. They were practically on Timothée the entire time, landing everywhere on the young boy’s body in order to feel him up right at the dinner table. 

The first time Travis touched him in front of everyone, Timmy’s smile had tightened subtly. The boy had managed to mask his reaction as he had hoped that it would be a one-time blunder that Travis had regretted immediately as soon as he realised that he needed to contain himself. However, Travis appeared unabashed. It hadn’t been an accident; it hadn’t been him forgetting himself for a moment. Rather, the physical advances seemed very intentional. As soon as he had crossed the line once and had wrapped his arm around Timmy’s shoulders, Travis had chosen to go the extra mile and had started to rub his hand down his back, too. 

Timmy was too surprised to challenge his bold behaviour and so, Travis grew increasingly unapologetic. Seeing as he didn’t get called out for his forwardness, the man took it as a sign that he was okay to continue.

When Travis stroked Timmy’s cheek for the first time while continuing to carry out the conversation casually, like it was completely normal for him to caress Timmy almost absent-mindedly until they were basically imitating a married couple who had been together for years, Armie caught his ex-lover recoiling. Not because Travis had stroked him the wrong way, but because the very sensation was unfamiliar to him. Timmy seemed to shy away, acting like he had just been touched by a stranger. Armie suddenly understood that Timmy hadn’t been lying when he’d said that this hadn’t been going on for long. At the look of shock and perhaps helplessness on Timmy’s face as Travis kept repeating his slightly impudent moves, Armie realised that Timmy didn’t know what to do because he didn’t properly know the man he’d brought along as his date. He and Travis were so new with each other that Timmy hadn’t been able to foresee the other man’s behaviour. Armie concluded that this was the first time that Timmy had had to introduce Travis and appear by his side in public. 

Travis was beginning to put him on the spot and Timmy hadn’t been prepared for it. At his cluelessness, Armie felt sorry for the kid.

Not long after Elizabeth had served everyone their dinner, Travis’s fingers started nuzzling against Timmy’s neck and Timmy caught Armie eyeing him like he was quietly asking him if he should interfere, if Travis was bothering him. With a silent huff, Timmy frowned back at him. He didn’t need Armie’s judgment and he certainly didn’t need his help. It was so typical of the blond, tanned Hollywood star with his pearly white teeth and dazzling smile to naturally assume the role of playing everyone’s hero. 

Armie wasn’t Timmy’s hero and Timmy wasn’t a damsel in distress. Travis was only being forward because he liked him and maybe, Timmy thought, being liked by someone was a good feeling after all. Either way, he was fine on his own and seeing as Armie had slept with him without ever having loved him, Timmy was fine receiving that love from someone else. After all, Armie had wanted him to move on. If anything, Timmy was merely following his orders and playing by Armie’s own rules.

He thought he could keep it together and simply welcome Travis’s public display of affection, but after a while of receiving the man’s attention in excessive and vast amounts, Timmy struggled to keep up the pretense. It felt weird getting claimed by a man who couldn’t even remember his last name, who didn’t know anything about him other than the fact that he and his brother were good friends back in New York. It felt weird getting felt up by a man who had only taken him out for a meal and drinks a couple of times and had expected sex in return almost immediately. Especially in front of Armie. Especially in front of Elizabeth and the kids, too.

The more Travis smiled at him and leaned in to kiss his face while Armie continued to ogle them both disapprovingly, the more Timmy grew to feel suddenly mortified. What the fuck was he doing having dinner with the man he had once committed adultery with, and his wife and kids, while he himself was getting crowded and fondled by a third party? What on earth had he been thinking bringing Travis into this mess, like he wouldn’t only make everything more complicated? Realising that there was only so much that he could do to dodge Travis’s eager fingers, Timmy tensed and tried to lean away from the beef-cake of a man by his side. Travis didn’t take the hint, but moved his chair closer towards him.

Seeing Timmy’s discomfort, it was taking Armie every ounce of his self-control not to stab the stranger’s hand with his fork every time he moved it across the table, searching for the younger man. He wasn’t jealous, though. Of course not. Armie was just looking out for an old friend who could only be considered to be easy prey in the state of vulnerability that he was in – a state which, arguably, Armie had condemned him to single-handedly. Perhaps he was trying to protect the kid because he felt guilty.

Elizabeth never sensed Timmy’s nervousness, or her husband’s inner turmoil. 

“Harper, darling, will you pass Timmy the potatoes? Our guest is barely eating,” she pointed out with an easy smile.

Two things happened at once. 

Travis chose his moment to reach his hand under the table and run it up Timmy’s thigh suggestively in the instant that Harper reached for the bowl of potatoes and somehow ended up dropping her knife to the floor in the process. Before Timmy caught up with the situation, the little girl jumped out of her chair and knelt down in order to stick her head underneath the tablecloth and search for her lost piece of cutlery. He panicked when he realised that he was too late to stop her from seeing what she saw. Even though he began to bat Travis’s hand away from him aggressively, it was no use. He didn’t let go.

“Timmy,” Harper babbled innocently, jumping back up on her chair, “why are you holding hands with him under the table? Is he your boyfriend?”

She had never before seen two boys holding hands, but she was suddenly oddly fascinated with the idea. From films and TV, she recognised holding someone’s hand to be a romantic gesture, blissfully unaware that, in reality, Timothée had merely seized the larger man’s hand in the hope that he could yank it off him. 

Timmy’s face turned bright red and he swore he could have killed Travis for putting him in this position. Oh, bless little Harper – he had missed the girl dearly, but he had forgotten how curious she could be – how blunt. 

“Harper!” Elizabeth exclaimed with a laugh, eyeing her daughter like she was shocked with her behaviour. “Don’t be rude – you know better than to ask personal questions like that.” 

Harper’s little smile faltered and she shrank, hanging her head like she had just been scolded. Feeling bad about this, Timmy eyed her carefully, realising that he needed to make things right, especially after not having seen the little girl for so long.

“Don’t worry, Hops, you weren’t being rude at all,” Timmy offered her a big grin, “you can ask me anything you want. You are still my best friend, remember?”

This cheered up Harper immediately.

“Best friends,” she repeated happily, giggling as she ignored her mother’s disciplinary tone. 

She looked over at Timmy with eyes that were full of adoration. She had been so confused after the 22-year-old had returned to New York and had decided to stop visiting their house, but now she was absolutely thrilled to have her play mate back. Armie watched his daughter’s excitement and let his gaze shift towards his former lover. He had almost forgotten how great Timmy was with their daughter and Armie was suddenly reminded how fond of him he was. Timmy reciprocated his stare, but when Armie offered him a small smile, the young man averted his eyes and looked down at the food on his plate instead. 

As quickly as the situation had been resolved, Travis decided to make things difficult for him again.

“You know, Hops,” Travis uttered much against everyone’s expectations, adopting the little girl’s nick-name, though he was a complete stranger to Harper, “Timmy and I are holding hands because we really like each other. See? I’m just showing him my affections.” At this, Travis suddenly clutched Timmy’s hand, hard, pulling it into his own and squeezing it until it hurt. He tightened his grip and let both their hands rest on top of the table’s surface for everyone to see. This time, he knew that Timmy was unable to avoid him.

Timmy struggled not to wince. He caught Harper staring at the way that their fingers had now been intertwined and he knew that he had to play along. Harper’s expression was one of uncertainty at first, but when it came to reassuring the girl that everything was fine, Travis was once again one step ahead of him. 

“Timmy likes it when I hold his hand. You see, Hops, it doesn’t matter if you are two boys, or two girls, or one boy and one girl,” he told her in an overly sweet voice that Timmy didn’t recognise. “You can hold hands with anyone you like. Love is love, am I right?” He turned his head and made eye-contact with Timmy, who had to bite his tongue and fake a smile in return. What on earth was Travis rambling about? Was he expecting them all to applaud him after his little speech? Who was he trying to impress? 

Armie found himself frowning. There was something about Travis that didn’t sit right with him. The guy seemed so eager to please that it didn’t come off as genuine. It didn’t take long for Armie to decide that he didn’t trust him. 

Elizabeth, on the other hand…

“Aw, guys, that is so sweet!” His wife cried, moved by this stranger’s pretentious statement, which no one had asked him for. Liz watched in awe as Travis leaned in and planted a soft kiss to Timmy’s cheek, and though Timmy didn’t respond to it, she was immediately convinced that both their hearts were in it. “I am so happy that the two of you have found each other,” she went on excitedly, causing Armie to groan slightly. “Let’s bring out another bottle of wine. This is good cause for celebration, don’t you think?”

“Oh, Mrs. Hammer, you are much too kind!” Travis smirked broadly, gulping down his remaining wine in order to make room for more. “Thanks again for having us. We were so thrilled to receive your invitation, weren’t we, babe?”

Babe?! Armie nearly scoffed out loud. 

Timmy’s smile faltered. He seemed stressed out. Unable to relax. When Elizabeth got up from the table and went into the kitchen in order to open another bottle, Armie heard her humming blissfully. Either she was tipsy already or she was just truly relieved to see Timothée in the arms of another man if it meant keeping him away from her husband’s. When she returned to the table, she even reached out her hand and ruffled Timmy’s hair in a manner that was so maternal and parental that it had Armie cringing. 

“We haven’t seen Timmy in so long, we were almost starting to worry about him,” she chattered on, embarrassing Armie further, “but we are just so happy that he’s found someone to make him happy.” 

Travis smiled proudly and raised his glass as Liz began to fill him up.

That did it for Timmy. 

Shrugging the bigger man off him, he got up from his chair so fast that he nearly knocked it over.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he uttered in a strained voice that had Armie’s heart aching for him in no time, “I’ll, uh – I’ll just head to the bathroom real quick.” 

Timmy left the dining room hurriedly and Liz didn’t seem to think much of it, but when Travis got up and announced that he was going to check up on him and make sure that he was okay, something inside Armie snapped. He could no longer contain himself. 

“What a creep! He can’t even leave Timmy alone for one second, can he?” He snarled as soon as Travis had disappeared. “Honestly, what does Timmy see in that guy?” 

“Armie!” Liz dropped her fork dramatically as she scowled at her husband. “What an awful thing to say – Travis is lovely!” 

“No he isn’t!” Armie persisted stubbornly, making Harper giggle. “Timmy can do a lot better than that!”

“Lower your voice, what if they hear you?” Liz hissed with annoyance, causing their daughter to laugh once again. “What’s so funny, Hops? You like Timmy’s new friend, don’t you?” 

“No-o,” the little girl chuckled naughtily, making Armie’s heart swell with pride, “I think Daddy is right. Timmy can do better.” 

 

*

 

Travis had him cornered before Timmy even made it to the upstairs bathroom. 

“Hey, what’s the rush, baby? Are you trying to run away from me?” Travis teased him as he caught up with the smaller man and wrapped an arm around Timmy’s middle from behind. “Come here – I need to have you for myself for a moment.”

Timmy gulped when he got pulled backwards straight into a pair of muscular arms. Travis, who was three times bigger than him and ten times as strong, clutched Timothée’s slim body against his chest, holding him close. He seemed to think that tonight was all about them and about them becoming official, but Timmy knew that he couldn’t be further from the truth. He hadn’t invited Travis along because he was ready for them to take the next step. Quite the opposite. They were only here because Armie had asked him to come and because Timmy knew that he couldn’t show up alone.

In the end, most of his decisions (no matter how stupid) always came down to whatever Armie appeared to want from him. He was his fool. His slave.

“Travis, wait! Hold on for a second…” Timmy chuckled, though he was screaming on the inside.

Travis was already grinding against him, reaching a large hand down to feel up Timothée’s butt and squeeze his flesh suggestively. When he latched on to his neck, too, and began to nibble at his skin using his lips, Timmy shuddered, feeling suddenly sickened and anxious. Travis, however, took his trembling as a sign of swooning. 

“Did you excuse yourself from the table because you knew I would follow you?” Grinned the sturdy man, bringing his mouth closer to Timmy’s ear. “You’re so naughty. And sneaky… I like it.”

Before he could explain his true intentions or even object, Timmy felt himself being thrown up against the nearest wall. With his back pressed into the very corner of Armie and Elizabeth’s hallway, he realised that he was trapped, pinned up by Travis’s huge weight. 

“Hold on – Travis!” He panted, pressing both hands against the guy’s broad chest, unable to move him. “You’re crushing me here…” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby. I just can’t help myself around you.” 

The back of Timmy’s head banged against the wall as Travis was all over him again and began to ravish his mouth with his own. The kissing was far too forceful, far too intense for Timmy’s liking, and as soon as Travis shoved his tongue inside his mouth without asking first, Timmy groaned and fought hard to escape him. Travis was relentless. Even when Timmy began to press his palms against the other’s chest, moaning loudly for him to pull back, Travis appeared to ignore his pleas.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded on the stairs, approaching the two of them fast. 

“Is everything okay here?” Armie’s voice sounded, deep and serious. Travis hadn’t managed to remove himself from Timmy in time. Armie had seen, and his question was aimed at Timothée alone; a clear indication of the fact that Armie knew perfectly well that this ‘act of passion’ was completely one-sided. He had suspected from the beginning, when he’d laid eyes on Travis for the first time, that Timmy would have a hard time getting the guy to back the hell off, and Timmy’s nervous behaviour at the dinner table had only confirmed his fears. 

Armie wasn’t going to let anyone take advantage of Timmy under his roof, under his nose. He would rather cause a commotion than look the other way and pretend not to know.

Travis released Timmy’s mouth, leaving Timmy breathless and shaky. The kid looked like a right mess, his hair ruffled and his cheeks flushed. Travis’s enormous frame was still resting against Timmy’s delicate, twig-like body, ensnaring him. Now he glanced back over his shoulder lazily, eyeing Armie like he didn’t understand why they had been interrupted in the first place.

“Timmy was just showing me the way to the bathroom. Weren’t you, gorgeous?”

Travis’s hand went up to stroke Timmy’s cheek again. Timmy tensed up even worse, if possible.

“We – we weren’t going to go to the bathroom together,” an overwhelmed Timmy stuttered eventually, glancing at Armie apprehensively, feeling extremely embarrassed to have Armie finding him in such undignified state. “We were just… We were just fooling around for a moment, is all.” 

Armie realised that Timmy was worried that he would be on the receiving end of his judgment. Perhaps he knew perfectly well that this wasn’t what a happy, healthy relationship looked like and that Armie would frown upon them. Travis – though the fool didn’t know it – was nothing but a rebound; an unassuming, gullible bloke who happened to be just tall enough, just broad-shouldered and leggy enough to make Timmy forget, if only for a moment, how much he missed being pulled into Armie’s arms and held right there, so close to his chest that he could hear the man’s heart beat. It was Armie’s chest and not Travis’s that he wanted to be pressed against, it was Armie’s heart that he wanted to feel the warmth of at night when it seemed impossible for him to escape his own thoughts. 

Perhaps he had genuinely thought that Travis could make him forget, but he didn’t. He craved too much attention in return; rather than helping Timmy to move on, it felt like the man was trying to suck him dry until he was all out of love.

“My baby’s so shy,” Travis tittered, ignoring Armie once again as he pressed his face down against Timmy’s head, nuzzling into him, causing Timmy to stretch his neck uncomfortably in order to accommodate. “He doesn’t like it when I kiss him in front of other people.” 

‘Maybe he doesn’t like it when you kiss him full-stop,’ Armie thought to himself bitterly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Timmy pulled an agonized face, forcing his eyes closed. He couldn’t bear watching Armie watch him like this. It was humiliating. He felt as little and helpless as a child. 

“Travis, come on now,” he spoke, pushing subtly against the juggernaut of a man before Armie had the chance to intervene again. “Let’s take a breather, eh?”

Timmy forced a chuckle, but Travis stayed put, leaning against him heavily.

Armie almost couldn’t believe it. This was outrageous!

“You heard him,” spoke the blond man, having finally lost his patience with the stranger, “give him some space, why don’t you? You’re squashing him.” Armie’s voice was hostile and strict and though Timmy now looked mortified to have him meddling in, he didn’t regret his interference whatsoever. 

“Armie, do you mind?” Timmy groaned suddenly, feeling unbelievably furious to be treated like a child by the man who had messed him up far worse than Travis ever could. “We’re fine. I’m fine. Just – go back to the table. This is none of your business.” 

“Are you sure you’re fine?” Armie’s voice was suddenly kinder and more caring as he was addressing Timothée directly. “Are you sure he’s not crowding you?”

“Yeah. Like I said, this is none of your business. Go – we’ll be right down.” Timmy pushed against Travis one more time and finally, he moved off him, stepping backwards reluctantly. “Just give us a moment.” 

Armie looked anything but persuaded, but at the same time, he hated the idea of upsetting Timmy. He bit his tongue as a wave of disgust washed over him. He hated seeing Timmy with someone new. He hated the idea of Travis’s mouth on Timmy’s soft and delicate skin, which Armie had kissed and claimed so often in the past because he had cherished and worshipped it as though Timmy had been his entirely and could never belong to anybody else. He then realised that he felt a million miles away from the younger man. He felt out of touch with him, like he barely knew Timothée anymore. Did Travis even know about their history? Did he perhaps assume Armie to be some sort of neurotic, overprotective, out-of-line older brother to Timmy? Or maybe a father figure? A platonic blast from the past?

Whatever he believed, he was never going to get it right. Just like the rest of the world, Travis was utterly oblivious to the looks being exchanged silently between Armie and Timmy and to the words that had been left unspoken. 

Armie didn’t speak again because he knew Timmy didn’t want him to. He nodded quietly and disappeared from the hallway sullenly, and in the matter of seconds, Travis went back to sucking Timmy’s face off. 

Timmy couldn’t get into it. Travis’s kisses left him wanting to wipe his mouth afterwards, and they failed to fill his stomach with butterflies like Armie’s had. He closed his eyes and tried to focus, tried so hard to enjoy what wasn’t even adequate in comparison to the infatuation that had possessed his body every time Armie had scooped him into his arms and taken him without having to ask first.

Timmy sighed and squirmed his way out of Travis’s embrace once more, hating the guilt that filled his core and made it hard for him to breathe. Travis gave him a look of confusion. He didn’t understand Timmy’s hesitation. He had paid the younger man nothing but compliments in order to show his interest and, hopefully, seal the deal. None of it seemed to work. Timmy kept pushing him away.

“Later,” Timothée heard himself negotiating desperately because this was the easiest and fastest way out and because he was already running out of excuses not to be intimate with him, “not now, Travis, we haven’t even finished our meals. Let’s not be rude.”

“Later?” Travis merely repeated, looking disappointed and enticed all at once. He looked into Timothée’s eyes. “Fine. Later it is. I’ll hold you to your promise, love.”

Timmy forced a smile, though he was secretly choking up inside.

Travis’s heavy hands were on his waist and he was itching for him to let go. Every time the bigger man neared him, it was making Timmy’s skin crawl. He reacted to Travis like a bad rash, he realised. He had never before felt so repulsed or disinterested in another human being and it was frightening him slightly. A couple of years ago, Travis’s attention would have probably flattered him. He was, after all, good-looking. Even charming and funny at times. After Armie, however, Timmy’s heart broke at the very thought of being with someone else.

He no longer felt himself. He felt disconnected. Incapable of receiving love, let alone reciprocating it. At the prospect of letting someone new get too close to him, the breath would catch in his throat, and the feeling would, from out of nowhere, creep up on him; that same old, familiar feeling that he had carried with him ever since Armie had left him a complete wreck – a mere shadow of the person he had once been. 

He felt terrified. He felt unworthy. Most days, though, he felt numb – ridded of all emotion. 

After the way that things had ended with Armie, Timmy’s heart had been shattered thoroughly and it was only now that he was starting to realise what a horrible job he had done piecing himself back together. 

Travis wrapped an arm around him again and Timmy flinched, feeling like he was going to wither and die inside. 

“I can’t wait to fuck you later,” whispered the man possessively and this time, a fresh wave of revulsion and fierce self-hatred nearly had Timmy bursting into tears.


	4. Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After another round of drinks, Travis tries to keep Timmy to his promise.
> 
> Elizabeth thinks that the boys are in love, but Armie knows that something is wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of you have probably seen this coming already, but this is just to be safe: Here's a trigger warning for attempted rape/ non-consensual stuff, but also for mild violence and slut shaming.
> 
> This chapter shouldn't contain anything too graphic, though.
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for your kind words and your wonderful ideas in the comments! It is much appreciated and I do listen to you guys :))

A few hours later into the evening, Elizabeth was happily entertaining her guests and playing the perfect hostess, having insisted that Timothée and Travis joined Armie and herself for drinks in the couple’s drawing room. It was getting late and Armie had just returned from putting the kids to bed, having spent some extra time reading a nighttime story for Harper and tucking in Ford who kept kicking off his covers. 

When he reentered the room, his wife was laughing loudly and he could tell that she was drunk. Travis was laughing along with her while Timmy remained utterly silent. Even though he and Travis were sharing a rather large sofa, spacious enough to seat at least five adults, Travis was sitting so close to him, they were practically in each other’s laps. Travis’s hand was clutching Timmy’s thigh the entire time and now, Armie couldn’t help but to stare down at that large hand plastering itself against Timmy’s bony limbs. He thought that it was obscene. Disrespectful. Timothée looked so tiny next to him; so defenseless. Armie thought that he looked like he was being held a prisoner by Travis who was getting chummier and chummier for every glass he’d downed. 

“Darling!” Liz cried as Armie rejoined the party. “Come get yourself a glass of champagne. Travis was just telling me the funniest story about the first time he asked Timmy out on a date.”

Armie frowned as he approached the table. They had finished five bottles of wine between them already; champagne was the last thing they needed right now. It appeared that Liz and Travis had drunken the majority of it, hence all the giggling. Timmy looked too nervous to be drunk and Armie was too busy being on the watch in case Travis should cross the line again, and so, he decided to pour himself a coke instead. 

“It is a funny story indeed,” Travis continued, making Armie roll his eyes and bite his tongue again, “do you remember it, babe?” Travis snaked his arm around Timmy’s shoulders, pulling him close against his body, well aware that Timmy was in no position to object. “I’m telling you, Mrs. Hammer, I was smitten by this little dude from the moment I laid eyes on him. Whenever my brother brought him home after school, I felt myself getting jealous. I wanted to be the one spending time with him. I tried for so long to make him notice me, but guess what? This guy right here, he wasn’t an easy one!”

Travis squeezed Timmy again, holding the slender boy in a near death-grip. Timmy distorted his face with distress. Travis laughed again, causing Liz to join in. Armie settled down in an armchair so that he was sat across from his wife. He took a long sip from his coke, forcing himself to remain silent. He couldn’t stop watching Timmy’s face. He couldn’t stop worrying, couldn’t stop longing… 

Travis told Liz about how he, eventually, gathered the courage to make a pass at Timmy, only to get rejected. Though he was obviously still bitter about it, he made it sound like he only found it hilarious. Armie saw right through him. He had the fakest smile he’d ever seen, apart from Timmy’s forced ones. Everything he said sounded boastful and self-absorbed. This dude was, if anything, incredibly vain. Timmy’s rejection had, from the sounds of it, wounded his pride and offended his ego, yet here he was, telling Armie and Liz every intimate detail, manipulating the story in order to make it sound like he had, eventually, won Timmy over and achieved his affections. 

He acted like they were in love. Like they had been together for two years instead of two weeks. He acted like his touches and kisses had Timmy’s knees going soft when really, they were close to making both him and Armie dry-heave. 

Timmy caught Armie staring at him again. They read each other’s faces effortlessly. Armie cocked an eyebrow as if to ask Timmy if he was really sure about this. Making sure that Travis was still looking the other way, Timmy responded by shrugging his shoulders lightly – not to indicate that he didn’t know, but rather to say: ‘He’s really not as bad as you think.’

This painful arrangement went on for at least another hour. Travis and Liz kept drinking, laughing and exchanging cringe-worthy stories between them, both at Timmy and Armie’s expenses. Liz was telling Travis about her first dates with Armie back when they had just been introduced to each other through a mutual friend. She told him how romantic Armie had been from the start, how he had been head-over-heels in love with her, how he had been the perfect gentleman and bought her flowers, bought her jewelry, wined and dined her, promising to take things slow out of respect for her, when really, she claimed, she had been desperate for them to sleep together. Even on the night of their first date, Liz told her guests with a drunken cackle, she had tried to invite Armie back into her apartment in the hope that he would spend the night, but Armie had been too patient, too gentle to rush things with her. 

“And that’s why I love him,” she finished off, smiling, reaching out her hand to her much too sober husband who, regardless, took it and pressed a kiss to her palm. 

Travis chuckled at this story like he merely found it funny. Timmy, on the other hand, could have wept with devastation. To him, everything Liz had just shared with them felt like a tragedy, and the agony of it was weighing down on the already broken pieces of his young, foolish heart that had once dreamed, maybe even believed, that some day, Armie would be courting him, too. 

Armie hadn’t looked at Timmy even once during Liz’s little speech. But Travis had. Sliding his hand down to rest on top of Timmy’s knee, Travis seemed to grow tense and slightly pensive for a moment, momentarily lost in thought. The expression on his face had changed and Timmy realised that Liz’s story had made the man feel jealous. He wanted what Liz and Armie had. He wanted what Timmy would never give him.

“You know, for our first date, I bought Timmy the most beautiful bouquet of green roses,” Travis smooth-talked suddenly, striving to impress their hosts with a story that was equally loaded with sappiness and romantic gestures, but more importantly, was loaded with lies. “They are extremely rare and very hard to get and, of course, very expensive, but as soon as I looked into his eyes and saw how stunning and emerald green they are,” Travis’s fingers cupped Timmy’s chin, raising his head until, finally, Timmy was staring back at him, “I realised that I had to find something to match his beauty. If only those roses were half as lovely as him…”

Travis leaned in and pressed his lips against Timmy’s, wanting to copy the way that Liz had made Armie kiss her hand with ease, yet wanting to raise the bar and make Armie’s gesture pale in comparison. Timmy tensed up in between his hands and held his breath throughout the kiss, though he let Travis do as he pleased. Travis sighed inappropriately as he prolonged the kiss and began to caress the younger man’s cheeks with the back of his hand.

Liz was so plastered, she nearly began to cheer the couple on, though she settled for some modest aww-ing. Armie was quick to look the other way; he was too worked up to watch Travis crawling all over Timmy and taking advantage of him once again. Instead, he turned his head and glared at his wife, feeling weirdly skeptical of her behaviour. He understood that she wanted to be supportive of Timmy and the choices that he made, but part of him also suspected that, in reality, Liz was simply just desperate for the kid to fall in love with someone else so that she wouldn’t have to catch him eyeing her husband whenever Timmy thought his yearning would go unnoticed. 

‘Go easy on the kid,’ Armie had told her a long time ago, when Liz still hadn’t known what to make of the way that her husband had evidently bonded with his new co-star. ‘He’s young. He’s too confused to know what he wants.’ 

‘I think I know exactly what he wants,’ Liz had said with a grin, laughing it off, though she had been slightly concerned, even back then. ‘I know because I’ve been there. I can’t blame him… Let’s hope that it’s just a phase that he has to go through.’ 

Liz was now watching intensely as Travis deepened the kiss and moved inside Timmy’s mouth. Suddenly, Armie felt sick. Why the hell was he allowing this? Timmy began to squirm and finally, he made a small sound and pushed Travis off him. Thankfully, Travis decided to behave, accepting Timmy’s reluctance with an arrogant smile. 

“Aww, you guys, you don’t have to be shy around us,” Liz commented. Though Armie knew that she had noticed Timmy’s lack of enthusiasm, she pretended not to realise. “The kids are fast asleep, you don’t have to worry about keeping it PG,” she further joked.

When she began to fill Travis’s glass up again, nearly spilling the champagne all over their carpet as she was too intoxicated to focus, Armie grasped that things were slowly getting out of hand. Timmy, it seemed, had come to the same conclusion.

“Uh, you guys, it’s getting really late,” uttered the small brunette timidly, watching Travis warily as he kept drinking. “Maybe we should call it a night. I’m a bit tired.” 

Armie stood up from his chair, wanting to back Timmy up on his request. 

“I can give you a ride home if you want,” the blond man proposed without hesitation, without even including Travis in his offer. 

Unfortunately, Liz had other ideas. 

“You guys, you are in no condition to make it home on your own – and Armie, you are in no condition to be driving. You had wine with your food, remember.” 

“It’s okay,” Timmy told her, wrapping his arms around himself, making himself look even smaller, “I can call a cab for us. We’ll be fine.”

“Oh no, you won’t,” Liz insisted heavily, “I have heard too many stories about cabdrivers taking advantage of drunk customers here in the city. It’s not safe. I think you guys should spend the night here, we have more than enough room for you both.”

Though he hated to admit it, Armie thought that her logic was reasonable. 

“I guess it makes sense,” he said, giving Timmy a brief, questioning look just to make sure that he was okay with it. “You guys are more than welcome to stay,” he agreed, though this was once again directed mainly at Timmy. “Timmy, why don’t you take the guest bedroom next to the kids’ playroom? And Travis, I can show you our other guest bedroom, it’s right next to the kitchen actually…”

Armie thought that he had it all figured out until Liz interrupted his plan:

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” She laughed at him, waving her hand, gesturing for her guests to ignore her husband’s proposal. “This is not Victorian England, is it? We’re not W.A.S.P.s, are we? Timmy, darling, you and Travis can share the guest bedroom upstairs. I would hate to break you two lovebirds up.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Hammer. We do prefer sleeping together,” Travis smirked, wrapping his arm around Timmy again, whose smile faltered and whose expression paled even further.

Armie felt his stomach drop. He had a horrible feeling about this and yet, there was nothing he could do about it. Timmy had told him that everything was fine and in order to keep up appearances, Armie was forced to take his word for it. 

 

*

 

“Oh, thank God!” Travis exclaimed dramatically as soon as he and Timmy had retreated into their room, having called it a night. “Finally – I never thought this night would end! That bitch just kept talking and talking and talking… I was bored out of my mind!”

Travis pulled Timmy into his arms and tore the shirt off his shoulders, ignoring the way that the boy grew instantly twitchy under his hands. 

“I – I thought you liked them,” Timmy muttered in surprise, trembling as Travis started to work on his trousers, too. “I thought you had fun…”

“Well, the wine was a saving grace I suppose,” Travis snorted meanly. “But baby, no offense, I don’t think we’ll be visiting these people again any time soon. They are not my type. Come here.” 

Travis tried to back Timmy up against the wall, but this time, Timmy saw it coming. He dodged Travis’s arms and stepped away from him quickly.

“Travis, hold on,” he begged inadequately. “You’re very drunk. I – I think we should wait.” 

“Wait? Again?” Travis shook his head stubbornly. “Nuh-uh. You can’t keep saying that every time. This time, you promised me. I’m sick of waiting. I want you, sweet-cheeks. I have wanted you for so long.” 

He launched forward again, but Timmy ducked. Rushing towards the far corner of the room, furthest away from the bed, Timmy pressed himself against the wardrobe, feeling himself shudder. He had hoped that Travis would take the hint, but he didn’t. On the contrary, Travis laughed and he seemed to think that this was Timmy playing hard to get, encouraging him to try harder if he wanted to catch him. 

“You love playing games with me, don’t you, love?” Travis smirked as he unbuckled his belt and undid his trousers. “Can’t you see how ready I am? Why must you torture me like this?” 

Travis’s bulge was so big, it was poking out from where he had unzipped his jeans, spilling over the hem and intimidating Timmy further. Travis’s erection was staring him straight in the eyes and it was ugly and threatening. Of course he could see how ready this man was and it was only making him want to run in the opposite direction. Why had he agreed to Liz’s stupid suggestion to stay here? If only Timmy had gone home instead, he would have been in control of the situation. Here, tugged away inside Armie and Liz’s mansion of a house, there was nowhere for him to hide. He couldn’t call for help. He would be left humiliated and Armie would only be blaming him for his own recklessness. Armie would know that he had been lying when he had told him that everything was fine.

Travis was beaming at him. He knew. He fucking knew that he had backed him into a corner. 

Timmy tried desperately to stall everything. To change the subject and make Travis forget about his bodily urges. Perhaps if he started a fight with him, Travis would finally grow sick with him and give up. 

“Why did you make up that story about buying me green roses?” He asked the older man crossly, feeling much too exasperated to play nice. “You’ve never bought me anything. We’ve only been seeing each other for two weeks, Travis. Why were you trying to convince them that we’re a real couple?” 

Travis frowned at this. He didn’t seem to like Timmy’s tone of accusation. 

“We could be a real couple, you know,” he said simply, stepping forwards slowly. “Do you think I actually care what your boring, married friends think? You and I, we could be the real thing, Timothy. If only you would stop saying no to me.”

Travis walked up to him, wrapping a large hand around Timmy’s thin, delicate wrist. The two of them looked each other straight in the eyes and at last, it appeared that they were both being honest about their true intensions with one another.

“I don’t think I want us to be the real thing,” Timmy whispered dejectedly, pulling at his arm to break free from his grasp. “Let go of me, Travis. You’re drunk. We shouldn’t even be having this talk right now.” 

“You’re right. I’m sick of talking,” the bigger man agreed, though instead of letting him go, he picked Timmy up, carried him over his shoulder as he moved back towards the bed, throwing the smaller man violently down on top of the mattress. Timmy let out a small cry as he nearly bounced off the mattress, only Travis was instantly there to pin him back down against it. 

“No!” Timmy hissed through clenched teeth, twisting urgently in order to fight the giant off him. “Travis – stop it!”

Travis had moved on top of him firmly, now straddling his narrow hips and seizing his wrists once again in order to pin his hands above his head. He used so much force, Timmy thought the bones in his wrists were all breaking one by one and he threw his head back, whimpering in pain. He began to panic, fast. Travis’s weight on top of him was so massive, it felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Let go – it hurts!” He heard himself yelping, suddenly too scared to care if he woke up Harper and Ford next door. “Travis, please… You’re hurting me!”

“You said you wanted me. You promised me,” Travis groaned, hovering somewhere above his face. “Shut the fuck up and give me what you owe me.” 

“I – I can’t breathe!” Timmy warned him, feeling the tears prickle in his eyes. 

Travis was too drunk to understand the dark reality of his actions. Timmy’s pleas didn’t register on his face whatsoever, and he didn’t budge. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” he slurred, bowing down to press his lips against the younger boy’s face. “I have desired you for so long, Timothy…”

Timmy cried again and turned his face away from him stubbornly. Travis pouted.

“Let me kiss you. Stop being such a tease.”

Timmy was gasping, his entire chest heaving. Travis was adding an excruciating amount of pressure against his body and the pain was spreading fast through his limbs. 

“Let… me… go…” He begged desperately, shaking even worse as he felt Travis rubbing his pelvis against him. “Please… I can’t…”

“If you won’t let me kiss you, I’ll just have to fuck you instead,” Travis grunted without sympathy. “Stop your whining already… You knew this was going to happen. You promised me – I deserve to have you after all the time I’ve wasted entertaining your stupid friends tonight.” 

Travis reached a hand into Timmy’s underwear and that was it. His mind went blank. Timmy did the only thing he could possibly do in order to save himself.

His knee went up and bashed itself against Travis’s groin, hard – causing the douchebag to double over and collapse in pain. Travis moaned and gasped. From the sounds of it, the air had been knocked out of him and as he rolled over, curling himself into a ball, Timmy was finally able to push him aside and climb out from underneath his weight. 

He jumped off the bed like his life depended on it. Quickly, he picked his trousers up from the floor and began to dress himself, getting ready to take flight and get the fuck out of here before either Armie or Liz, or God forbid, their kids got wind of what had just happened. However, as Travis continued to wheeze whilst he practically hugged his knees to his chest, almost immobilised with pain, he faltered. Stilling himself as the guilt kicked in, slowly, Timmy swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling utterly torn. He couldn’t leave him like this. No matter how big a jerk he’d been tonight, how through with him Timmy was, it didn’t seem right to leave him behind while they were staying in someone else’s house. He was the brother of one of his best friends, for crying out loud. When Travis remained in that pitiful foetal position of his, Timmy began to worry that he had injured him. Maybe he had kicked him harder that he had realised. People had always told him that he had particularly sharp kneecaps. 

“Travis…” He uttered hesitantly, nearing the bed, though he felt cautious as to not get too close to him. “Travis, are you okay? I – I didn’t mean to… I mean… I’m sorry if I hurt you, but you left me no choice.” 

As soon as he started speaking to him, Travis grunted furiously and made an effort to stretch out his limbs. Forcing himself back into a seated position on the bed, the larger man wrapped an arm around his stomach, bending over as he struggled to catch his breath. His face was boiling red. 

“You ungrateful little… piece of shit…” He spat, his voice dark and bitter.

Timmy frowned as he cursed him, unsure if this was the frustration of a drunken idiot, or if this was part of an underlying anger that had sprung from being rejected once again. No matter what it was, Travis sure as hell didn’t sound like he was sorry.

“Look, can you get up, or do you need a hand?” Timmy huffed, feeling much too upset to be patient with the guy. “I wanna go home.” 

“Home?” Travis snorted meanly. “I’m sure you’d much rather stay here – with your fucking boyfriend.” He glared up at him, giving Timmy a look of disgust. “I mean, that’s why we had to go in the first place. Isn’t it? You just wanted to be with him. Not me.” 

Timmy was too tense to even draw a breath. 

“Travis, what are you talking about? Be real for a moment, will you? I told you – I wanna go!” 

“No, YOU be real for a moment!” The older man shouted suddenly, taking Timmy by surprise. “Don’t fucking lie to me, you – you slut! I saw the way that he was looking at you all night! I saw the look in his eyes when he caught us kissing. You’re fucking sleeping with him, aren’t you?” 

“No!” Timmy cried, feeling startled by Travis’s fury and accusation. “No, I’m not! But even if I was, you have no right to be jealous! You don’t own me! You and I are not even together!” 

“No we’re not – because you’re too busy being his fucking slut, aren’t you? You made a fool out of me, Timothy! You’ve been nothing but a God damn tease who wasted my time! I should have known that what I read about you was true!”

Travis seemed to recover instantly as he stood up from the bed, hovering over Timmy in full-size, making him feel terribly small and helpless in comparison. He was as wide as he was tall. He easily had a hundred pounds on him, if not more. As he moved closer towards him, Timmy instinctively took a step backwards, until he found himself with his back up against the wall.

He should have run while he had the chance. He should have reached for his phone and called for someone, even Armie if necessary. 

“Wh-what have you read about me?” Timmy heard himself asking in an almost broken voice, though he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know. Everything that Travis seemed to hold against him was so ridiculous – so beside the point. 

“I read that you were Armie Hammer’s little whore,” snarled the gorilla of a man as he re-approached him, getting ready to attack again. “I read that you were wild and promiscuous. Unashamed. Ruthless. I read that you like older men. Especially if they are moneyed. Where did I go wrong, Timothy? Hm? Do I not have enough money for your liking? Is that why you don’t want me? Is that why you keep crawling back to this asshole, even though he’s got a wife? Because he’s rich? Is he your Sugar Daddy, perhaps? Does he pay you for taking his fat cock down your throat? Can I make you blow me if I pay you, too?” 

With one hand, Travis took his own cock out from his underwear. The other hand was suddenly clutching Timmy’s shoulder, pressing down on him as he urged the boy to get down on his knees for him.

“I’ll pay you real nice, baby – just suck it. It’s what you do, isn’t it? It’s what everyone says about you… You’re a whore. You’re nothing but a filthy, manipulative bitch.”

Travis tried to push him towards the floor one more time, and Timmy struggled against him fiercely. 

“Stop it! God damn it, Travis – this isn’t funny! Let go of me or I’ll call the police!”

“If you call the police, I’ll have you arrested for exploiting me. For having me pay for your body when I should have had it for free.” 

“I’m not a fucking whore!” Timmy shouted frantically, wincing as Travis’s fingers dug into his skin with agonising force. “Travis, please – you’ve known me for years! You ought to know that what you’ve read isn’t true!” 

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” Travis bellowed in his face. His voice was striking and terrifying. He sounded like a madman and any moment now, Timmy was expecting to hear the sound of Harper and Ford crying from across the hallway. “Admit it! He’s the reason you don’t want me – you brought me here to make him jealous, didn’t you? You used me, you BITCH!” 

“No!” Timmy retorted, feeling absolutely mortified. “No, you’re wrong! This has nothing to do with Armie – this was only supposed to be a date! It was supposed to be casual, but you couldn’t even keep your fucking hands to yourself. Do you wanna know why I don’t want you, Travis? Because you would have fucking forced yourself on me if I hadn’t kicked you! You’re acting like a God damn animal!” 

Travis wasn’t listening. He staggered forward one more time and pressed himself against Timmy in an attempt to kiss him. Timmy screamed and tried to elbow him in the face in order to escape. 

“FINE!” Travis hollered. “If you wanna play rough, I can be rough!”

The first slap came from out of nowhere and was a devastating shock to Timmy whose head, by the powerful blow of Travis’s hand, was knocked back against the wall. It disorientated him and left him stunned and confused. With a small whimper, he raised his hand to feel his hot, stinging cheek that continued to throb like he had just been set on fire. Travis, however, left him with almost no time to nurse his pain. 

“How do you like me now?!” He shouted, observing the younger boy’s ordeal with great satisfaction. “What do you say, whore? Are you going to open up your pretty little mouth for me, or do I have to slap you again?” 

Timmy tried to run past him, but Travis was too close, too big – he was like a brick wall that had built itself up all around him, imprisoning him. As soon as he tried to make a run for it, Travis caught him in his arms and pulled him close against his body. 

“No!” Timmy protested, flailing and thrashing manically. “No, Travis – please!”

“Probably shouldn’t have kicked me in the balls, should you, baby? Makes me want to be even rougher with you…” 

This time, Travis didn’t settle for using a flat palm on him. Instead, he punched him square in the face, his meaty fist colliding with Timmy’s jaw, sending Timmy flying backwards. When he slipped and fell back, crashing his head against the wooden nightstand by the bed, Timmy collapsed weakly on the floor, unable to get back up. His head was spinning, his vision blurring. 

Once again, Travis failed to take pity on him. As soon as he saw that Timmy was down, he pounced on his prey, mounting the skinny body all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's just a small note to say that I know things escalated really quickly seeing as this is only the 4th chapter. However, I felt that this was necessary in order to demonstrate the abuse that Timmy is/ has been going through because of the rumours surrounding his and Armie's affair. 
> 
> So far, Armie has had no idea how badly people are treating Timmy so it's time he realises. (Hence Travis's part).
> 
> Thanks so much for reading xxx


	5. Stopped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie is alerted that something is wrong...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the cliffhanger, I swear I wrote this next chapter as quickly as I could :))
> 
> I also apologise for all the angst some of you had to endure in the meantime. As always, I'd like to remind everyone that there's a trigger warning for attempted rape/ non-con and for violence.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and for your comments xx

It was the sound of a night lamp falling to the floor, shattering to pieces, that caused Archie to start barking. The Welsh terrier had been asleep downstairs in the kitchen, resting peacefully in his basket, when he was disturbed by the faintest sound of yelling, and of a thumping against the floor. The light-brown canine had jumped to his feet and reacted immediately as his instincts told him that something was wrong. 

The little dog dashed across the kitchen floor and began to scratch at the door, only to find that he couldn’t push it open. In their drunken state, Armie and Elizabeth had forgotten to leave the door ajar for him. Hearing the shouting continue from upstairs, Archie ran in circles around himself a couple of times before barking madly in order to attract some attention from his owners. 

After a little while, his barking finally alerted Armie. 

Armie had just pulled out of his wife when the commotion broke out. As he rolled off Elizabeth, he kissed her forehead as some sort of lame, half-assed appreciation of her letting him use her body once again to get ‘it’ out of his system.

It.

‘It’ had grown to become a hunger that he could not feed. A thirst that could not be satisfied, or perhaps a fire that could not be put out by water alone. ‘It’ seemed to be haunting Armie’s mind constantly these days. He could never quite put his finger on what it was. Or when it had started. All he knew was that it was too sensitive, too risky to speak about outside his own thoughts. ‘It’ was something dangerous that he could not control, and it was giving him mood swings, causing him to wake up in the middle of the night, feeling too starved and agitated to unwind.

He prayed that Elizabeth would never ask him what ‘it’ was. Why it was driving him to want, no – need, her body like he had been thrown back to age sixteen. Why it was making him avoid her eyes as soon as he had gotten his orgasm out of the way, like it wasn’t something for him to chase, nor desire, but to get over with as soon as he could.

‘It’ was keeping him from enjoying anything too intimate, too personal. And it was only a matter of time before Elizabeth sensed it, too.

The sex had been embarrassingly quick as Armie had been much too ready for it. In fact, it had been so quick, so sloppy, that he doubted Liz had even benefitted from it. Yet, there she had been, encouraging him, spurring him on while she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him sweetly, though drunkenly. She was so drunk tonight, Armie almost expected her to fall asleep as soon as he pulled out of her body. 

Though he had wanted it, he had struggled to climax when, briefly, he had closed his eyes and let the inner images plastered all over his mind take over. As soon as he had taken his eyes off Elizabeth – his loyal, beautiful, doting Elizabeth, the love of his life – he had been plagued and haunted by visions and discoveries that he had made earlier in the evening. He saw large, male hands rubbing themselves all over a much slighter and paler body. He saw mouths crashing together, though one particularly aggressive; the other submissive. He saw shaky fingers and nervous gazes. He saw Timothée’s eyes, apologetic and ashamed.

Then, eventually, after pushing everything back and suppressing his fears yet again, he only saw Timothée. His face was imprinted all over his brain, his memory, displaying itself again and again, until the young man seemed impossibly far away and yet so close that he could taste him. Without even thinking, he had quickened his pace, a wave of eagerness and passion washing over him, even as he had continued to roll his hips and drive himself into his wife. He had had to force his eyes back open just to remember she was there underneath him, that she was the one to receive his every thrust. 

As soon as the two of them had broken apart, Armie had announced that he was going to take a piss. She had closed her eyes, muttering something about him hurrying up. Immediately, she had been on the edge of sleep. 

If Armie had stayed put, if he hadn’t entered the hallway in order to navigate his way towards the bathroom, he would never have heard Archie’s barking. 

“Oh shit. I forgot to leave the door open,” moaned the tall man to himself, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. “Damn it, Archie, you’re going to wake everyone up.” 

He neared the staircase when he finally stopped to think. Archie’s barking was frantic and urgent. The Welsh terrier never used to behave like this. He never used to disturb them in the middle of the night. He wasn’t just barking; he was growling at something. He sounded infuriated. 

Armie had almost jumped to the conclusion that someone must have been trying to break into their house when, suddenly, a noise sounding from the far end of the hallway had his blood running cold. The noise had been disturbingly subtle. Faint. Too easy to miss. Yet, there it was again: There was a small cry, too weak to speak up. There was a thud, followed by kicking, or perhaps a tussling between two bodies. The sound of something, or someone, hitting against the floorboards, hard, explaining Archie’s angered barking. 

Armie felt frozen for a moment, almost believing the noises to have sprung from his own imagination. Then the door to the kids’ room opened, taking him by surprise. In the doorway, a sleepy and upset Harper appeared, rubbing her eyes, looking hopelessly scared and confused by what she had heard, too.

“Daddy,” she whimpered, looking up into Armie’s face. “What is happening? The noise woke Ford up. He’s crying and I can’t sleep…” 

Luckily, Armie’s paternal instincts kicked in and though he couldn’t even think clearly, he was suddenly on autopilot. 

“It’s okay, sweetie, don’t be scared. Everything is fine,” he soothed his daughter, gesturing for her to turn around. “Go back to bed, Hops, and stay in your room until I return. Do you understand? Stay with Ford, I’ll be right back.”

“But Daddy… Ford is crying.”

“I know, I know – I’ll be right there, I’m just going to check up on the noises first, okay? Wait for me inside, close the door to your room, Hops.” 

His baby girl went back inside, closing the door after her and Armie drew a sigh of relief. The last thing he needed was for his daughter to see her own Daddy go berserk on their houseguest. 

The blond man ran towards the guest bedroom with a heavy heart, fully aware that whatever was awaiting him, it wasn’t going to be good. However, despite his suspicions, it turned out that nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to witness. 

“Timmy! What’s going on in there? I’m coming in!” He shouted as he reached for the door handle, pushing the door open using his shoulder. Thankfully it seemed that none of their guests had known how to work the lock from inside and so, the door flew open, allowing Armie to stumble across the threshold as he had half expected to be met with resistance. 

Despite the warning, Armie managed to catch Travis in the middle of the act. Travis hadn’t let himself be interrupted by their host’s chiming in. Even as Armie staggered into the room, he kept going, letting his unforgiving hands claw at Timmy yet again, even as the younger man kept whining and begging underneath him.

Armie saw everything. 

He saw Travis sitting on top of Timmy, leaving him sprawled out on the floor as he pressed a knee down to the boy’s chest, pinning him underneath his weight. He saw Travis knotting one hand into Timmy’s curls, pulling at his hair with brutal force while his other hand was pulling at the hem of Timmy’s trousers, aiming to yank the material off him and strip him naked. He saw the hideous shape of Travis’s bare ass, the man’s underwear pulled down and now wrapped around his ankles. He saw Timmy’s face, anguished and horrified. His eyes kept trying to close on him. It looked as though he was barely clinging on to consciousness and it didn’t take Armie long to piece the events together. The red fingerprints marking Timmy’s cheek revealed Travis’s violence and indicated that Timmy had taken a fall, or rather, that he had been smacked against the nightstand head-first by Travis, which explained the knocked-over night lamp that had now joined Timmy down on the floor; a broken, tell-tale piece of evidence pointing to Travis’s aggression.

Needless to say, Armie’s entire world burst and imploded with blinding rage.

Later on, the blond man would, despite his presumptions, thank himself lucky that the police were never involved in the aftermath of the incident. Because, truthfully, in the event of an interrogation, Armie wouldn’t have been able to remember what came over him, what coursed through his mind in the moment that he tackled Travis to the ground and attacked him. His intention had been to get him off of Timmy, he knew that for sure, but what had possessed him to thirst for Travis’s blood would remain a mystery to him.

“GET OFF HIM! GET OFF HIM RIGHT NOW, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” 

Armie suddenly had Travis in a headlock, choking him briefly as he pulled his body back, hauling him away from Timmy so that the younger man could finally breathe, finally collapse, finally sob. Timmy let out a small cry that could have easily broken Armie’s heart in two, had he not been fully occupied taking his revenge. 

Travis was too shocked by Armie’s intrusion to fight back and consequently, Armie managed to straddle the offender’s chest, soon delivering punch after punch to his face. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Armie heard himself bellowing, completely forgetting that his young kids were only down the hallway. “If you ever lay a finger on him again, I’ll fucking castrate you! Do you hear me?!” Armie swung his fist and let it collide with Travis’s nose this time. The blood started to spill from his nostrils immediately. “If you ever as much as call him over the phone again, I will kill you! Have I made myself clear? Answer me, asshole!” Travis breathed heavily. He seemed incapable of even uttering a coherent word. “ANSWER ME!” Armie barked, losing every ounce of patience with the guy. 

Without thinking, his hand went down to press against Travis’s windpipe. It was meant as a mere warning, but as soon as Travis thrashed and exposed his suffering to the man on top of him, Armie lingered. He realised how much he liked what he saw and because of that, he didn’t want to let go just yet.

At the sound of Travis’s gagging, Timothée groaned and pushed himself up on his elbows. His very skull was pounding and pulsating with pain and it was making him feel nauseous. Though he hadn’t been certain what was happening at first, what had made Travis let go of him, he now looked up to discover Armie’s strong frame, holding Travis down, strangling the life out of him.

Armie had saved him. Armie was protecting him.

Armie was going to kill Travis…

“Armie…” Timmy’s voice was nothing but a pathetic whisper. He felt the tears streaming down his cheeks, though he couldn’t remember when he had starting crying. “Armie… Don’t.”

Armie had his back on him, facing the other way. Timmy frowned when he realised that Armie was wearing nothing but his white boxer briefs, sat on top of Travis who was stark-naked. In another lifetime, in another universe, perhaps, Timmy would have found this notion oddly arousing. Right now, however, all he felt was sheer terror. He didn’t want Armie to become a murderer. He didn’t want Armie to cross a line that could change everyone’s lives forever. Not because of something that he had started.

“Armie,” Timmy pleaded again, letting out an anxious sob. “Armie, stop – this isn’t you. Let him go… You’re hurting him.” 

He tried to sit himself upright, but was overcome with sudden dizziness. For a moment, he thought he was going to pass out and so, he fell back down against the floorboards with a thump. 

This finally caught Armie’s attention.

“T.” He uttered, looking over his shoulder to see Timmy subsiding. “T! Fuck – are you okay?” 

He noticed Timmy’s paleness, but more importantly, he finally noticed the blood seeping from the back of the brunette’s head, from where he’d been struck by the sharp, wooden edge of the table. He looked like he was going to faint. How heavily had he been bleeding, and for how long?

Letting go of Travis, who inhaled with a gasp, Armie rushed to Timmy’s side and as soon as he turned his back on the other, Travis jumped up from the floor, picked up his discarded pieces of clothing and ran for the door, nearly bumping into Elizabeth who – alarmed by her husband’s yelling – had appeared in the hallway. As Travis pushed past her and fled as quickly as he could, she saw the blood smeared all over the man’s face and she dropped her jaw. What the hell was going on?

“Armie?” She entered the guest bedroom warily, wondering what had caused Travis to bolt on them. He had left the room unclothed, looking like he had just been beaten up. “Armie? What’s happening?”

She paused when she walked in on her husband kneeling down next to a very frail-looking Timothée on the floor. The brunette was lying there, shirtless, looking painfully rough with his tussled hair and swollen cheek. He seemed semi-conscious when Armie wrapped an arm around him and supported his head in order to ease him off the floor. When Armie withdrew his hand, it was covered in blood.

Elizabeth gasped. She could hardly believe her own eyes.

“Oh my God!” She exclaimed. “Is he okay? What happened? Did he fall over?”

For a moment, Armie was so angry, he didn’t trust himself to reply. It wasn’t Liz’s fault of course, though he felt like her question was ridiculously clueless given what she’d already witnessed. He realised that she was still drunk and probably confused. Part of him wished that she would just go back to bed and give them some space. 

“No, he didn’t fall over,” Armie growled resentfully as he imagined that Travis would have been more than happy for people to make this assumption. “I walked in on Travis attacking him. Apparently his intentions weren’t so pure after all. I fucking knew we shouldn’t have invited him to spend the night – I knew it!”

“What?” Elizabeth cried. “No – I can’t believe it! He was so nice during dinner! He was so…”

“He was so drunk is what he was!” Armie snapped cruelly. “I’m guessing someone was too busy offering him more wine to see what a bastard he was being! You never noticed him taking advantage, did you?”

Had he just taken a dig at his own wife? Was he seriously going to take this out on her? There was no fucking way that she could have predicted Travis’s true colours, so why was he even suggesting that she was responsible for letting this happen? All she had done was being kind and attentive – the perfect host. Armie, on the other hand – he had suspected. And despite this, he had still put Timmy in a room with this creep.

Liz was still in shock and didn’t even look like she had been listening. 

“We need to stop his bleeding,” she said suddenly, her eyes focusing on Armie’s red-stained hand. “Is he – is he still awake?” 

Armie shook Timmy gently, causing the young man to groan in discomfort. Timmy’s eyes fluttered open and Armie’s heart dropped; he had slowly been drifting off and he hadn’t even noticed.

“Timmy,” he uttered urgently, supporting his neck so that he could prevent him from falling back against the floor, “Timmy, hey – look at me. How are you feeling?”

“Timmy, darling,” Liz called from across the room, “I’m going to get you some bandages and then I’m going to call you a doctor. Try not to fall asleep, okay?” 

Timmy struggled hard to perceive her voice from afar. His ears were ringing and his eyes were rolling in his head. All he knew was that he felt Armie’s arm around him. If Armie found it necessary to touch him while his wife was there to watch them, things had to be kind of serious. Otherwise, Armie would have kept his distance, like he always did. 

“It’s… okay. I don’t need… a doctor,” he heard himself wheezing, knowing that he would never be able to pay Armie and Elizabeth back for such service. “I’m gonna be… fine.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Armie told him, somewhere very close to his face. “You’ve probably got a concussion and we need to know how bad it is. Liz, call Dr Rueben. Tell him to get here as fast as he can.” 

“I’ll be right back,” Liz responded with a nod, “in the meantime, help him back into bed. And don’t let him fall asleep, got it?”

On her way back to the bedroom, she found her young daughter in the doorway belonging to the kids’ room. Harper was crying and frightened out of her mind.

“Mommy,” wept the girl, reaching for Elizabeth like she needed protection. “I heard Daddy yelling… Ford won’t stop crying.” 

Elizabeth picked up her daughter instantly. After all, she wasn’t too drunk to notice when her own kids needed soothing and reassurance.

“Everything is fine, my love, don’t cry,” she shushed her, allowing Harper to borrow her head into her shoulder. “Will you stay with your baby brother for just one more minute? Mommy needs to make a very important phone call.” 

Harper wiped at her eyes. She was so tired and she didn’t understand all the noises keeping her awake. 

“Is Timmy and his friend still here?” She asked as she was trying to piece the puzzle together. “There’s someone in the guest room… I heard fighting.” 

“Timmy is here, he’s spending the night,” Liz told her, “but his friend Travis won’t be coming back.”

“Good,” Harper sniffed. “I don’t like him. Can I go see Timmy? Pwease? Can I?” 

“No, darling, Timmy isn’t feeling very well,” Liz sighed, kissing her daughter’s forehead. “Mommy needs to call a doctor for him, so you can’t go into his room. Do you understand?” 

“What’s wrong?” Harper inquired, but Liz didn’t have time to explain. “Is he sick?”

“Yeah,” Liz said hesitantly, “he’s a little sick, but he’ll be fine. Now, go back to watch over Ford for me, okay? I will be right there, as soon as I’ve called the doctor.” 

In the meantime, Armie was scooping Timmy’s light body carefully into his arms as he carried him off the floor with ease. Timmy was oddly limp in his arms; though he didn’t seem comfortable with the situation at all, he wasn’t resisting Armie’s touch, and he didn’t object to being assisted, no matter how degraded it made him feel. 

It was times like these that Timmy was reminded of Armie’s fatherhood and routine. He was so gentle. He knew exactly what he was doing. From practicing his caring embrace on his young kids, Armie knew exactly how to support Timmy’s head as he reached underneath his bony figure and picked him up securely. Timmy wanted to stretch his neck and move his limbs so that he didn’t have to remain so embarrassingly floppy and weak, but the dizziness was causing his vision to fill with black spots. If he had gotten up and walked over to the bed on his own, he probably would have blacked out. 

Armie raised himself to his knees and at the sudden movement, Timmy felt a rush of motion sickness seizing him. It took him aback and he didn’t know how to react to it. Never in his life had he struggled with something like this; not in cars, not on boats, not even on planes, even though he’d never liked flying much. When he suddenly lost all sensation of balance and felt like he was going to fall, even though Armie held him close, Timmy panicked and gripped Armie’s arm like he was clinging on to the bigger man for dear life. 

Armie noticed the terror in those green, vulnerable eyes and he realised just how out of sorts Timmy was.

“It’s okay,” he whispered calmingly, cursing himself for being so tall and for having lifted him off the floor too quickly, “I’ll move you slowly – see? You’re gonna be fine.”

Timmy forced his eyes shut when the room started to spin before his eyes again. He only opened them when Armie laid him down on top of the mattress, softly and unhurriedly. As soon as he felt himself resting on top of a solid surface that he wasn’t going to fall down from, he relaxed slightly. Then, Armie removed his hand from underneath his head and let Timmy be supported by the pillows instead.

“N-no,” Timmy slurred, sounding almost drunk, “Armie, I’m gonna – get blood – all over them…”

“T, are you for real right now? That’s the last thing I care about, don’t you see?” Armie hovered above the bed, leaning in to inspect Timmy’s face with concern. “Fucking hell… How many times did he punch you?” Armie was beginning to spot more and more forming bruises across the brunette’s cheek and jawline. “What the fuck did he do to you? Timmy, we have to press charges! He has fucking injured you!” 

Timmy groaned in response. He dared not to think what his face was going to look like in the morning. 

In that moment, they were both interrupted by the sound of Harper and Ford crying. Timmy realised that Liz probably had her hands full. Their crying was suddenly making his very skull throb again, making him feel like his head had just been cut open. 

“I’m so sorry…” He uttered, wincing as the pain intensified. “The kids… They sound so… upset. I have caused… so much trouble… for you all…”

“Woah now, I am going to have to stop you right there, buddy,” Armie said firmly, pressing his large hand down against the younger man’s shoulder. “If you are going to play the blame game here, at least stick with the facts. You – have done nothing wrong. You – are not responsible for any of this. Travis is. He alone caused this, that bastard! It’s not like you freaking asked him to beat you to the ground.” When Timmy said nothing, Armie ran the back of his hand down Timmy’s unharmed cheek, caressing him gingerly. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Armie had just called him ‘buddy,’ he was now making it worse by acting horribly parental towards him. It felt like a Dad lecturing his teenage son. It was the last thing Timmy needed. “What the fuck happened?” Armie then sighed, sounding genuinely upset. “T, I’m – I’m so sorry for leaving you in here with him. I fucking knew he couldn’t be trusted! I – I should have prevented this shit. I should have protected you from him advances.” 

“You did… protect me,” Timmy croaked, blinking quickly as it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open. “You stopped him from… taking things further…” 

“But I should have never let him spend the night here in the first place!” Armie exclaimed. “I should have meddled in when I saw him touching you. I should have never left you alone with him. Tell me, Timmy – did he hurt you anywhere else? How bad is the pain?” 

Timmy managed to swallow and look straight up into Armie’s impossibly blue eyes. He could tell that he was worried. Timmy had spent an entire year in hopeless isolation, just begging to – one day – have Armie looking at him like that again; with eyes that revealed how much he cared. He had spent so many nights crying after having read headline upon headline about himself and in all secrecy, he had dreamed that Armie would, eventually, come to his defense and just for once stand up for him like he used to. 

Now that Armie was leaning in to check up on his wounds, touching him, caressing him and comforting him, Timmy realised that he didn’t want it. All this attention was, if anything, making him feel nervous and embarrassed. 

“Armie… I’m fine… You stopped him… You stopped him in time…”

“In time?” Armie furrowed his brow. “T, what exactly was he trying to do to you? Was he trying to… force you?”

Timmy exhaled slowly. He didn’t want to admit it. Not to anyone. Not to Armie. He didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that he had been so stupid, so naïve as to tell Armie earlier in the evening that everything was fine, only to find himself being backed into a corner all over again hours later. 

Before either managed to speak again, Elizabeth re-appeared in the doorway and entered the room hastily. Armie quickly withdrew his hand from Timmy’s face, but she didn’t even notice.

“Here, I found some bandages in the bathroom,” she said, tossing them over to her husband. “Dr Rueben is on his way, but he told me that we need to stop the bleeding if we can. And Timmy, you absolutely cannot fall asleep, do you understand, love? Not until he’s had a look at you to confirm how bad the injury is. You could have suffered serious trauma to your head without knowing it and if you suddenly lose consciousness, we might struggle to wake you up again. Armie, what are you waiting for? We need to bandage the wound before the blood-loss makes him all light-headed!”

Armie paled as he looked increasingly worried.

“Maybe we should take him to the hospital instead,” he suggested faintly, addressing Elizabeth only, but Timmy heard him. “This could be serious.”

“No,” Timmy begged suddenly, his eyes intensifying with desperation. “No, I can’t – I don’t want the photographers… to find out. They would only try… to take pictures of me on the way. I’ll be fine, I swear… I’m okay. I don’t need… no hospitals. I – I can’t go out there… Please just let me stay here… Please…”

Realising that Timmy seemed even more fearful of the idea of becoming the subject of new gossip than he had been of Travis’s abusing him, Armie bent over the bed and embraced him carefully, shushing him, even in front of Liz. 

Timmy wasn’t consoled until he and Liz both had promised him not to expose him or take him anywhere in his bloodied, battered state.

 

*

 

Some time after the doctor had left the bedroom and had declared that he was out of danger, Timmy vaguely registered Liz washing the blood out of his hair using a sponge and a bucket of lukewarm water. They were trying to prepare him for bed, meanwhile, his mind was growing foggier. As soon as he was bandaged and soaring high on painkillers, Timmy began to blink weakly, feeling himself drifting off little by little.

Liz pointed to his bloodied clothes and said that he should wear something clean. Armie offered to undress him, and to assist him, and he smoothly shepherded Liz out of the room, realising that Timmy deserved some privacy after everything he’d been through tonight.

As Armie helped him out of his trousers and pulled a fresh shirt over his head, Timmy’s head seemed to roll back as he was barely even awake.

“It’s okay,” Armie whispered gently, calming Timmy’s every subconscious nerve, “you can fall asleep now. You’re safe. You are going to be just fine.” 

Timmy had already closed his eyes, feeling like he was a million miles away. Armie, however, spoke to him again, causing him to startle. Whether it had been ten minutes or only five, he couldn’t tell. When he opened his eyes again, the lights had been dimmed and Armie had pulled the covers over his shaking body.

“I want Travis arrested for what he was trying to do to you.” Armie’s voice was darker than Timmy had ever heard it. He sounded like he was talking in one of his movies. He hardly sounded himself. “Tomorrow morning, I’m going to talk to the police. I will have that son of a bitch prosecuted. I want his criminal records to detail what a pervert he is. If we get him convicted, he would probably be sentenced to prison for a while. He’s never going to lay a finger on you again, I’m going to make sure of that…” 

Armie was about to run his hand through Timmy’s hair, but Timmy reached for him suddenly, stopping him.

“Promise me… you won’t do that,” the younger man breathed with exhaustion, though his appeal was urgent. “Armie, please – just leave it alone.”

Armie frowned at that disapprovingly.

“You’re not protecting him after everything he did to you. Are you?”

“No… Of course not. I’m protecting you.”

“T, if this is about the media finding out, screw that! I mean, who the fuck even cares? This is about justice!” Armie inhaled with difficulty. He knew he was getting carried away. “He needs to be punished for what he did to you.”

Timmy shook his head slowly.

“No.”

Armie nearly sputtered out another one of his speeches, but Timmy stopped him again.

“It’s not just about the media…” His hand let go of Armie and fell down against his own chest. “If the police get involved… Travis will tell them that you attacked him. He will show them the bruises you left on his neck. Armie, you – you would get in trouble. People would think that you are… violent. It’s not worth it.”

‘I’m not worth it,’ Timmy thought simply. He somehow felt like this truth went without saying. 

Armie’s mouth fell open for a moment, but he couldn’t think of a single word to say. Timmy was letting him off the hook. Once again, the younger man was deciding to accept his fate and suffer it alone, unassisted. Timmy didn’t want Armie to get his hands dirty. He didn’t want to be saved. If anything, it was Timmy holding his hand over Armie, keeping him and his family out of trouble.

“You stopped me,” Armie uttered after a moment of thought. His eyes were serious, though the rest of him felt shaken. “I was so angry – I could have choked the life out of Travis without even thinking. But you stopped me from doing that. I – I could have killed him…” 

Timmy had closed his eyes and stopped responding. Finally, it appeared that he had surrendered himself to sleep. His breathing evened out and grew slower, though steadier, and Armie could do nothing except listen to him, making sure that he was alright. Now that Timmy was unconscious, his facial features were once again relaxed. Fascinated by what he saw, Armie sat himself down by his bedside and watched him closely. 

Timmy looked like a mere child in his sleep. He looked small and undeniably vulnerable, yet peaceful. His sleeping frame radiated an innocence that was almost heartbreaking in its depth. How could anyone even think of hurting someone so young, so pure? 

Armie took a moment to reflect and mull over all the things that he could have so easily lost tonight, all because of an idiot like Travis. If Armie had actually murdered him by accident, he would have lost so much more than just his reputation, his freedom. He would have lost his wife and kids. His home. His career. His parents. His friends. His neighbours. Archie, who had loyally alerted him that something terrible was happening.

All of it, Armie’s entire life, had been at stake when he had pushed Travis to the floor and threatened to destroy him. Armie had nearly made a mistake that would have cost him everything and yet, he had felt so willing, so ready to actually chance it.

All just to keep Timmy safe. 

For Timmy, he would have probably done it.

It was a realisation that worried Armie more than it helped him come to terms with his inner chaos. He didn’t know what to make of his own defensiveness of Timmy. For some reason, he felt responsible for the kid – for his safety, for his happiness. However, he had not yet learned to understand what it was that drove him to care, to fear on Timmy’s behalf like he did. It was something bigger than himself; something that had rooted itself somewhere deep inside of him, and yet hid its face every time he even tried to challenge the intentions behind his own protectiveness. 

It was getting late and Armie was much too confused to make sense of tonight’s event. All he knew was that even long after Timmy had fallen asleep, no longer in pain, Armie stayed by his side, feeling an incredible, unspeakable urge to watch over him and make sure that nothing bad haunted him in his dreams.


	6. Cheveux de Papier Toilette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy wakes up in Armie and Elizabeth's house the next day, nursing a bad concussion. Though he is welcomed by every member of the family, he realises that he feels guilty for staying.
> 
> He doesn't understand why Liz is so nice to him. He doesn't understand why Armie doesn't want him to leave. 
> 
> In order to tackle some of his guilt, Timmy offers to babysit the kids for a few hours...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 6! Once again, thanks to everyone for the really nice feedback I've had :)
> 
> I hope this chapter doesn't seem like a filler to any of you; obviously we are still dealing with the aftermath of Travis's visit. While Timmy is in recovery, I also thought it was time for him to bond some more with Harper, Archie, and even Liz but more importantly, Armie as well.
> 
> Even though we'll see another glimpse of ProtectiveArmie, he and Timmy still have a long way to go.

Timmy didn’t awake until some time in the afternoon the following day. Though he had had a deep, dreamless sleep, he woke up feeling startled. His eyes snapped open and when he tried to roll over, he wanted to cry in pain. He didn’t recognise the room that he was in and he didn’t remember what had happened until he raised a shaky hand to the back of his head and felt the bandages.

Then it all came back to him, and even with the sun shining in through the window and bathing him in light and warmth, his reality suddenly seemed ugly and harsh. 

Last night had been one long episode of humiliation and gut-wrenching indignity. What the fuck had Timmy been thinking, bringing Travis to the dinner party as his date? He had never wanted the two of them to be an item in the public eye, so why the fuck had he even told Armie and Liz about him? Travis had been selfish and assertive all the years that Timmy had known him. He should have known better than to reel him in just to show him off for one night only, because once Travis was given an inch, he’d take a mile instead. 

Now Timmy hoped that he would never see Travis again, though obviously, avoiding him would be near-impossible, considering the fact that he was living with his brother. Just thinking about it had Timmy instantly anxious. What if Travis had told his brother what happened? What if he told him about Armie choking him, punching him? 

Together, they would blame Timmy for him getting hurt. There was no way in hell that Travis was ever going to admit that he had been the one to cross the line and to initiate the violence himself. He would fabricate and manipulate the story to make it sound like he was the victim, and that Timmy had been in the wrong for using him, leading him on so that he would get what he wanted, only to dump Travis ever so cruelly once he was finished with him.

Timmy realised that he would probably get kicked out of their house. He would get evicted and, unless he had enough money to buy a ticket back to New York, back to his parents, he would end up on the street.

He would be homeless, right here in L.A. 

His future was over. He had ruined everything. 

Feeling anxious and out of breath, Timmy sat himself upright in the bed. The pain had his skull throbbing excruciatingly and suddenly, the sunshine was so bright that it was hurting his eyes, causing him to feel like his head was going to explode.

He was taken by surprise when he saw movement down on the floor. Archie startled him by rolling on to his back with a small yap, seemingly playful as he looked up at Timmy expectantly. Timmy had had no idea that Armie’s terrier was in here. Archie hadn’t made a sound, but had let him sleep peacefully, uninterrupted. 

“Archie?” Timmy cleared his throat and let out a small laugh. “What are you doing in here, boy? Have you been keeping an eye on me?”

As soon as he addressed him, the little dog raised himself from the floor and barked excitedly in response. Archie ran happily across the floor and jumped on top of Timmy’s bed, eager to say hello. Timmy welcomed the dog into his lap and petted him immediately as Archie appeared desperate for attention. He was already licking at Timmy’s hands and would have jumped on his chest in order to lick his face, too, had Timmy not pulled back with a small groan. Archie’s tireless energy had Timmy’s head throbbing with agony all over again.

Only then did he remember Dr Rueben’s orders for him to stay in bed and only get up when strictly necessary, meaning that he should probably only be moving when he needed to go to the bathroom or take a shower. 

Armie had been right about him having a concussion. Dr Rueben had looked him over thoroughly, checking his reflexes, his sight, his memory by performing a series of tests on him and asking him a bunch of questions, too. He had asked Timmy if he felt like he was going to throw up. He had asked him if he felt dizzy. When Elizabeth had asked if they needed to take him to the hospital for observation, Dr Rueben had assured them that he would be alright to stay with them, considering that it would probably be more comfortable for him anyway. As long as Timmy had someone around him to make sure that he was resting, that he was eating and not throwing up, or even worse, losing consciousness, it would be safe to keep him here.

Armie and Liz had of course insisted that Timmy stayed with them, but Timmy knew that he was intruding. He didn’t want to be a bother to them. He had already ruined a perfectly good dinner party by bringing Travis along; he didn’t want to waste more of their time by having them checking up on him and feeding him for at least a week to come. 

Timmy felt at his swollen cheek with the tip of his finger. It hurt even worse than last night and he wondered how bad the bruising was by now. In a sense, he knew that he had been lucky to avoid the hospital. He would have died if anyone were to take pictures of him looking like this. Not because the bruises had his face discoloured and ugly, but because of the stories that he knew would eventually spring from this. 

He imagined that the media would make up stories about him being violent and starting a fight with someone in a nightclub. He knew that he would receive no sympathy whatsoever and that people would generally assume that he was responsible for the marks on his own skin. 

In New York, people certainly seemed to believe that he was spinning out of control. He didn’t want to create a similar reputation for himself here in L.A. 

When Timmy continued to prod his bruised, banged-up face, falling silent and slightly miserable, Archie whacked his tail and jumped in order to reach the young man’s chin with his tongue. He was literally trying to lick his wounds in order to cheer him up; Timmy couldn’t help but to smile. 

“Thanks, boy,” he whispered, returning the favour by scratching Archie behind both ears; one of Archie’s favourite spots. “Why do I have a feeling that I owe you so much more than just a good scratching?” Timmy bit his lip pensively. “You helped me last night, didn’t you? You woke up the entire house. You heard Travis and I shouting at each other.” 

Archie panted contentedly, letting the tongue roll out of his mouth as he leaned against Timmy’s hand. Timmy bent his neck and pressed a kiss down on top of Archie’s furry head.

He was beginning to feel his vision blur and so, he forced himself to lie back down. Archie seemed to understand that he was hurting and so, the canine laid down beside him quietly, allowing the brunette to take a break. He wasn’t done watching over him yet, it seemed. Resting his hand in between Archie’s ears, Timmy closed his eyes and suppressed another groan. He was desperately trying to forget the fact that this was the very same bed that Travis had him pinned down against and attempting to rape him in only twelve hours ago. When he breathed in slowly, he could almost detect Travis’s scent lingering in the sheets. It was making him feel sickened and annoyed. In a sense, now that Timmy was left almost completely immobilized, it felt like he was still being trapped here by Travis and kept as his prisoner. 

If only he’d never listened to Armie’s suggestion to start dating again.

If only he had taken his time to get to know someone better, someone kinder than Travis, he would never have had to settle for what had seemed easy and uncomplicated at the time being. 

There were so many things that Timmy regretted. And at the end of the day, he knew that he only had himself to blame for being both stupid and insecure.

He arched his back and stretched himself out, trying to get comfortable. He was beginning to wonder what he was supposed to do with himself when, unexpectedly, he heard voices coming from the hallway. Only a second later, his door was suddenly pushed open and from out of nowhere, Harper appeared.

“Timmy!” Cheered the blond girl who was looking more and more like her parents every day. “Mommy! He finished sleeping!”

Without having to wait for an invitation, the girl started running across the room and in no time, she did a little jump and managed to crawl on top of the mattress in her eagerness to join the party. Archie began to whack his tail all over again and so, Harper wrapped her arms around the dog, hugging him closely. 

“Hops!” Timmy uttered, realising how tired he sounded. “Hey, little sunflower – are you here to check up on me?”

Harper let go of Archie and turned her attention back on Timmy.

“You’ve been napping aaall day!” She complained, utterly oblivious to Timmy’s condition. “Mommy said I shouldn’t disturb you, so I had to wait.”

Timmy couldn’t contain his smile.

“I’m sorry about that. Guess you’ve been waiting a long time to say hi, huh?”

“Yeah!” Harper seemed to hesitate. Perhaps she was expecting Timmy to pull her in for a hug, but when he didn’t have the strength, he merely gestured that it was okay for her to come closer. Finally, Harper bowed down and wrapped her small arms around his neck like she’d done with Archie, and as she rested her head against his shoulder, he pressed his hand carefully against her back, making sure to prevent her from falling over and dropping to the floor. Harper prolonged the hug and considering how patiently she had been waiting to see him all day, Timmy didn’t mind it. 

Then, after a while, Harper seemed to have taken note of the t-shirt that he was wearing, and she clutched at his chest so that she could feel the material that was oddly familiar to her.

“Timmy? Why are you wearing Mommy’s shirt?” She asked him bewilderedly, pulling a face that had him thinking that she had not yet been taught that boys and girls could share clothes.

“Because we’re almost the same size,” he chuckled, amused by her curiosity. “Your Daddy’s shirts are too big for me.”

“Did you forget to bring your own shirt for the sleepover?” Harper suggested with a hint of sympathy and understanding in her voice, and it was making him appreciate her company even more. 

“Yeah, I guess I did,” he grinned, shrugging his shoulders. He didn’t want to tell her that in reality, his own shirt had been stained with blood and so, Liz had insisted to wash it for him. “How silly of me! It was very nice of your Mommy to lend me her shirt, though.” 

“But Timmy,” Harper giggled, “it’s a girl’s shirt! It’s purple!” 

“Boys can wear purple clothes,” Timmy told her, smirking widely. “I like purple. And red. And pink, for that matter.”

She laughed at him and shook her head like she thought he was insane. 

“Timmy?” She asked him again, pointing her finger at his cheek, jabbing him. “What happened to your face?”

He tried his hardest not to wince when she poked him again.

“Oh this? Don’t worry, Hops, it’s just a little bruise. I fell over and hurt myself a little bit, but it’s not too bad. The doctor said I’ll be just fine.”

“Is that why you’ve been sleeping for so long?” She ventured. “Because you hurt yourself?”

“Yeah. I had to stay up late waiting for the doctor to see me,” he explained. “I must have been really tired after that.”

“You should wear a band-aid,” she suggested wisely, frowning as she looked at him. Timmy hadn’t even had a chance to look himself in the mirror since the incident, but now he was worried that he looked grotesque. At least his bruises weren’t graphic enough to scare Harper away. “Do you want me to get you one?”

“No, that’s okay. My face is much prettier without it,” he joked, making her laugh again.

“No, Timmy, you look bad!” She corrected him. 

“What?” He gasped dramatically, feigning offense. “You think I look bad? Aww, Hops, you’re breaking my heart here!” He pulled the duvet up to cover his face and hid underneath it. “That’s it – I’m not coming out! I don’t want people to see me looking bad…”

Harper was immensely entertained by this.

“No, Timmy!” She cried, yanking at the duvet, even when she couldn’t stop laughing. “It’s okay – I still like you even though you look bad.”

“You do?” Timmy pretended to hesitate. “Well, alright then – I’ll come out…”

As soon as he removed the duvet from his face, his entire head was throbbing again. In order to cheer Harper up, it appeared that he had strained himself. In order to mask his pain, he pulled a silly face and stuck his tongue out so that Harper wouldn’t suspect his exhaustion. 

She liked silly faces. Armie, too, used to contort his face just to make her laugh.

“Timmy?” She smiled. “Why do you have toilet paper wrapped around your head?”

Timmy rolled his eyes at her, accepting her banter.

“Well, miss Harper, I’ll have you know that the toilet paper hairstyle is very fashionable in Paris. They call it cheveux de papier toilette!” He put on an overly sophisticated voice for her, especially as he spoke in French. “Do you like it?” 

She wrinkled her nose as to indicate that she did not.

“Noo, Timmy, you are making it up!” She chuckled. “You’re lying!” 

“Mais non!” He exclaimed, shaking his head. “Mademoiselle, I am telling you the truth!”

“Nooo!” Harper yelled, cackling sweetly. She pulled at Timmy’s (or rather, Liz’s) shirt again as if to insist that he cut the crap. “Stop lying! Stop being so silly!” 

Liz had heard her daughter laughing from across the hallway and as soon as she realised that Harper had snuck her way into Timmy’s room without her permission, she decided to go make sure that everything was okay.

“Harper, darling? Are you in there?” She knocked on Timmy’s door, even though it had been left ajar. Liz then stuck her head inside and found her daughter making herself comfortable next to Archie and Timmy, who, frankly, was looking both pale and tired. “I told you not to disturb him!” Liz scolded her daughter lightly. She had been busy keeping an eye on Harper all morning so that she wouldn’t run to the door and wake up Timmy, but eventually Liz had turned her back on her and Harper had clearly taken advantage. “Timmy, I’m so sorry about this,” she laughed apologetically, “I didn’t mean for you to wake up like this. How are you feeling, hun?” 

Timmy turned his head and looked over at Liz, smiling as convincingly as he possibly could.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” he assured her humbly, wanting to avoid any unnecessary concern. “Hops is really good at keeping me company. I appreciate her looking out for me.” 

“Mommy, look!” Harper said, pointing at Timmy. “He’s wearing toilet paper around his head!” 

At this, she touched his head and began to poke his bandages with her finger.

“Harper, no!” Liz disciplined her and rushed towards the bed in order to stop her daughter. “Don’t touch his bandages, he’s going to be in a lot of pain if you do that. Timmy hurt his head and he’s got something called a concussion. It’s very bad.” Liz picked up her daughter and carried her off the bed, despite Harper protesting. “I need you to be very nice to him. Timmy needs to relax as much as he can. Understood?”

Harper pouted. She didn’t appreciate her mother’s strict tone. Timmy looked absolutely fine to her. He was acting his usual silly self, so she didn’t notice any changes. 

“But Timmy said I could stay,” she whimpered slightly, wriggling in Liz’s arms as she wanted to be let down. “Isn’t that right, Timmy?”

“You can’t stay if you prod his bandages,” Liz told her seriously. “He may be too nice to tell you, darling, but he’s not feeling very well. Which reminds me, Timmy, seeing as you’re awake, it’s time for your painkillers. I’ll make you some breakfast to go with it, how does that sound?” 

Timmy was starting to feel slightly guilty. Liz was acting strangely protective of him and though it seemed genuine, it was making him feel like he didn’t deserve her caring. He had troubled the family enough already. 

“Liz, you really don’t have to… I don’t want to be a bother,” he muttered weakly, but she held up her hand, gesturing for him to stop right there.

“You need food to go with your medication,” she reminded him decisively, “don’t be shy, love, you are not troubling us at all. We are here to help you get better, remember?” At that, Liz put Harper back down on the floor. “Darling, can you go check up on your baby brother for me? He’s napping in the TV room. I will be down in a second. You can take Archie with you if you like.”

Harper started to walk across the floor reluctantly. Even though she looked over her shoulder, eyeing Timmy one last time as if she was still trying to make up her mind about him being ill or not, she obeyed her mother.

“Archie, come here!” She called and the terrier sprung after her, faithful as ever.

Once she had left the room and they could hear her little feet climbing down the stairs, Elizabeth sat herself down on the edge of the mattress, giving Timmy the impression that she wanted to talk to him privately. 

“Tim, I – there’s something I have to get off my chest,” she sighed, looking thoroughly mournful to the point where Timmy felt his chest tighten with worry. “I really must apologise to you,” she then said, taking him aback. “I am so sorry for what happened last night.” 

Timmy didn’t understand at all.

“Wait,” he said, frowning, “Liz, why on earth would you apologise? If anything, I’m the one who’s sorry – I’m the one who brought Travis here in the first place…”

“No, Timmy,” she said strictly, “don’t do that to yourself. You are not responsible for his actions.”

“Well, neither are you,” Timmy pointed out. “You have nothing to apologise for. It was so kind of you to invite us. I fucked it up by bringing a miserable thug as my date, though.” 

“No, you’re wrong, I do need to apologise,” she persisted. “I have talked to Armie about it since and I have realised that last night, there were probably some warning signs that I completely overlooked…”

“Liz…”

“It’s important to me that you know this,” she said suddenly, placing her hand on top of his wrist. “I want you to be happy. I really do, Timmy. You’re such a nice kid and you’ve been such a good friend to my husband, and my children. And I feel like I failed you last night.” 

Timmy couldn’t handle this. Liz shouldn’t be appreciative of his involvement with her family, but particularly, she shouldn’t bloody thank him for what he and Armie had once shared. She should be angry with him. She should hate him. She should kick him out instead of keeping him here as some sort of patient that she must have decided to take under her wing and care for. 

How the fuck could Liz feel like she had failed him when he very nearly tore her entire marriage apart? 

“You did not fail me…” Timmy whispered slowly, feeling lost for words.

“I did. I was too eager to believe Travis’s stories. I was so keen on the idea of you and Travis being in love with one another that I completely ignored his… egotistical… behaviour. Armie told me that he walked in on Travis trying to force you. Timmy, I – I’m so sorry for letting that happen. I feel like I was Travis’s enabler last night. I invited him to spend the night. I insisted that the two of you should share a room…”

“No – no, no, no,” Timmy retorted, shaking his head, “I should have known better. I’ve known Travis for years and I should have seen this coming, not you. I should have said something instead of just humouring him.” 

“Sweetie, listen to me. I have had friends who were forced and abused by their boyfriends in the past,” Liz smiled at him sadly. “I’ve heard all the stories. I usually do a much better job at looking out for my friends and making sure that they stay safe, but for some reason – I let you down. And I am so sorry for putting you in that position.” Before Timmy could protest again, Liz wrapped her arm around him. The one-armed hug was uncomfortable and awkward because of the angle, but she seemed stubborn, so Timmy made an effort to ease himself into it. “I am just so glad that my husband stopped him before things got any worse,” she added, pulling back. “I would never have forgiven myself if – well, you know…” 

This was unbearable. The guilt was driving him insane. She should be yelling at him. She should be confronting him. She should be reminding him that he wasn’t welcome here anymore; that she knew how he had once been fooling around with her husband, the love of her life, and that she would never forgive him for it.

“Where’s Armie?” Timmy heard himself asking, hoping to change the topic. In all honesty, he had expected Armie to be the first to see him after he woke up. He was the one that had saved him. The one that had picked up on Travis’s forcefulness even when Liz hadn’t. “I… I just wanna thank him. You know, for stopping Travis and for helping me.” 

Liz looked at him silently. Timmy would have given anything to be able to read her thoughts. He realised that he was wrong to ask for him. He was wrong to remind her that he was still attached to the man that was supposed to be her hero – her protector only. 

“Armie is out at the moment,” she told him, smiling briefly. “He had a few errands to run. He wanted to wait until you had woken up first, but you were more or less out cold. I’m sure that he will be here to check up on you as soon as he can, though.” 

 

*

 

Liz had served him breakfast in bed, scrambled eggs with toast and bacon, orange juice, coffee and even some fresh fruit for later. She had brought him bottled water, too, along with his painkillers and an extra pillow for him to lean against so that he could sit himself upright. She checked the bruises on his face carefully and checked the bandage wrapped around his head, wanting to make sure that his wound hadn’t been bleeding again. 

“Liz, you really don’t have to do all this for me,” he had said self-consciously, though he appreciated her help. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Enough with that,” she told him straight as she got sick of hearing his objections, “if one of my children had been attacked while they were all alone and far away from home, I would want someone to look after them. You haven’t even told your parents what happened yet. Shouldn’t I call them for you?” 

“No – no, I don’t want them hearing about this,” Timmy said quickly, shuddering at the very thought. “It’s just a concussion. I don’t want them to worry.” 

“Suit yourself.” From the sound of her voice, he could tell that she disagreed. “If one of my children had been attacked, I would want to know about it, though.”

“Travis didn’t go all the way. Armie stopped him,” Timmy reminded her. “I’m fine. And I’m not a child anymore,” he added with a small laugh.

She smiled down at him. 

“You have the face of a child,” she teased him. “Maybe that’s why you get into trouble so easily.” She then paused and seemed to reconsider her own words. “That was really inappropriate of me,” she said suddenly, looking mortified. “I’m sorry – I really shouldn’t have said that. None of this is your fault, after all.”

When Ford started crying again from across the hallway, Liz sighed. She had hoped that she would be able to go jogging before Armie returned, but seeing as the kids were acting up this afternoon, she muttered something about having to stay with them.

Timmy felt instantly guilty. She had been so busy looking after both him and Harper and Ford, she hadn’t had a moment to herself all day. 

“I can look after them,” he suggested spontaneously, as the idea had only just popped into his head. “If you want to go jogging, Liz, you should go jogging. This room comes with a TV, so I’ll just watch a movie with the kids in the meantime. That should keep them occupied.” 

He was desperate to make amends. To return all the good deeds and favours she had done him. It was a small gesture, of course, but it was a start. He wanted her to be happy, too. 

“Timmy, don’t be ridiculous,” she chuckled. “You need your rest. They are only going to drive you nuts. Harper can be so hyper at this time of day.” 

“We’ll be fine,” he assured her. “I love hanging out with them and it’s been ages since I’ve visited. Let me help, this is the least I can do.” 

“You’re not even supposed to watch TV. It’s too much stimulation for your banged-up head,” she reminded him.

“It’ll only be for an hour,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “I think I’ll survive. Besides, Disney films are great. It’s been ages since I’ve seen one.” 

“Just to warn you, Harper only wants to watch Frozen these days.” 

“Well, great – I haven’t seen that one yet,” Timmy grinned. “I’m sure it’ll be fun. You should go – you’ve worked hard all morning, and all day yesterday as well.” 

Liz hesitated. 

“I promise I won’t be longer than an hour, then,” she agreed finally. “Call me if you’re having any problems or if they’re bothering you, okay? I don’t want to be responsible for your headaches getting worse.” 

Half an hour later, Timmy was cradling Ford in his arms, who was now all sleepy from having cried for so long, and Frozen had just started playing on the big TV screen hanging from the wall in his room. Harper was crawling all over him with excitement until she finally settled down in between his legs, clapping her hands as the introductory song started playing. 

“I’m taking Archie with me, he enjoys the exercise. Have fun!” Liz smiled at them as she gave them a quick wave before setting off. “And Timmy – thanks again.” 

Harper was too thrilled; she had no time for her mother saying goodbye to them. She only cared about spending time with Timmy again and showing him her favourite movie for the first time. 

“Timmy,” she said, talking over the beginning, “wait ‘till you see Elsa… She’s my favourite.”

“Why is she your favourite, Hops?” Timmy smiled, indulging her.

“Because she is so pwetty… And she has magic.”

“Magic?” 

“Yeah, ice magic.”

“What does that mean?”

“You will see,” she said with a smirk, not wanting to give the plot away.

Timmy ruffled her hair with a small chuckle. At the movement, Ford began to stir in his arms and in order to prevent the baby boy from getting cranky, Timmy quickly let him have his pacifier. Ford began to suck at it happily and as Timmy lulled him back to sleep in no time, the little boy wrapped his small fingers around Timmy’s index finger. He had seen the baby clutch at his mother’s hair in a similar manner whenever being held in her arms, and Liz had told him that he tended to grasp at something, whether it was hair, clothes, jewelry or simply fingers, whenever he wanted to feel safe and sheltered. 

Looking into Ford’s sleeping face, Timmy thought that he looked both peaceful and content. All was good. 

“Look, Timmy, look!” Harper cheered twenty minutes later, pointing at the TV screen. “That’s Hans – he’s bad, but you’re not supposed to know that yet. Only I know.” 

“But he’s singing a song with Anna. He seems nice to me,” Timmy humoured her once again, knowing that Harper would roll her eyes and tut at his ignorance. 

“You will see that I’m right,” she remarked, slapping his leg playfully with her hand. “And then I’ll say ‘I told you so!’”

God, she was just like Armie. 

After another twenty minutes, Timmy knew that his painkillers had kicked in when his eyelids were beginning to feel awfully heavy and he was struggling to stay awake. Ford’s gentle snoring was only making him drowsier and despite Harper’s energy, Timmy felt his heart rate slowing down as though preparing his body for falling asleep.

Suddenly, Timmy blinked, jerking awake. Elsa was singing ‘Let It Go’ and Harper was humming along. Timmy closed his eyes slowly, drifting off one more time.

Harper was way too entertained to notice his lack of response. And Ford – Timmy hugged the baby close against his chest, making sure that he wouldn’t drop him. Nothing could possibly keep him awake at this point. His mind had been too crazed ever since last night and he needed to switch off and forget about everything. 

He only awoke when someone bent over the bed and uttered:

“Tim? Are you okay?”

Timmy’s eyes snapped open when a pair of strong arms carried Ford off his chest and stole the baby out of his hands.

“Ford!” Timmy gasped, jolting upright and causing his throbbing head to spin. At the fear of seeing Ford get kidnapped on his watch, Timmy felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins and it wasn’t until he saw Armie standing there before him, holding Ford in his arms, that he released a breath of relief. “Oh God,” he panted, looking into Armie’s face, “you scared me. Is he okay? I didn’t drop him, did I?”

“He’s fine,” Armie assured him with one of his dazzling smiles, “you had your arms around him securely, of course you didn’t drop him.” 

Timmy blinked again and took a look around him. The movie had ended. Ford was still asleep and Harper was now sat at the foot of the bed, playing games on her iPad. She hadn’t woken him up. She had finished watching the movie on her own and then continued to look after herself rather skillfully. Timmy felt like the worst babysitter in the world. 

“Oh Christ, I fell asleep,” he muttered under his breath, pulling an anguished face. “Harper,” he called, “I’m sorry I missed the ending.”

The little girl looked over her shoulder and gave him a big grin.

“That’s okay. Daddy says your head is hurting and that you need to sleep. I will show you the ending another day.”

Timmy leaned back against the pillows. It was true. He had a splitting headache. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said again, this time addressing Armie who was looking down at him with concern. “I thought I could stay awake – it must be the pills…”

“Hey, buddy, don’t worry about it,” Armie spoke gently, soothing the young man. “You can’t help that. Besides, these little monsters were absolutely fine on their own. Look at them, for crying out loud. I can’t remember the last time they were this well-behaved. What’s your secret?” 

Armie flashed him another smile, but Timmy couldn’t shake the guilt. 

“I promised Liz I would look after them,” he muttered remorsefully. “She’s never gonna trust me with them again.”

“Oh, please!” Armie laughed loudly. “You should know how many times I’ve fallen asleep watching cartoons with them. So what if you had a little snooze? You’re not the first person to do that.” Armie sat himself down by Timmy’s bedside and gave him a thorough look. “Where’s Liz? And why are you watching the kids for her when you’re clearly not feeling well?”

Timmy sensed a change in Armie’s tone.

“You don’t understand – I offered to watch them for a bit. She really wanted to go jogging, but then Ford wouldn’t stop crying and she felt like she couldn’t leave the house.” 

“Wait? She left you to watch over the kids all alone just so she could go jogging?” Armie huffed. “Timmy, you’ve got a concussion. You should be resting!” 

“It – it wasn’t like that,” Timmy told him. “Come on, Armie. Liz has been slaving all day making me breakfast and looking after the kids, I thought she deserved a break. She didn’t ask me to do anything, I offered. I told her to go. It was only going to be for a short while, anyway.” 

Armie was still looking somewhat unsatisfied with the arrangement. 

“Anyway, forget that,” sighed the blond man, “how are you feeling? You’re still looking a bit pale. And these have really started to show.” Armie pointed at Timmy’s bruises and winced. “Shit. That must really hurt.”

“Daddy, you shouldn’t swear!” Harper scolded him. “It’s not nice!” 

“Sorry, sweetie, but Daddy was just making an observation,” Armie said while keeping his eyes on Timmy’s discoloured jawline. “Are the pills working?” He then asked him. “Are they helping you with the pain?”

Timmy smiled sleepily.

“They work just fine. They take the edge off and then I get so tired that I can no longer feel a thing,” he joked, yawning. 

Armie’s eyes filled with sympathy as he gave him a kindhearted look. 

“Let me take the kids to their playroom. Ford should be in his cradle, anyway. Then I’ll be back to check up on you, okay?”

“Okay…”

Armie helped Harper jump off the bed and then he took her little hand into his and started walking both the kids out of the room.

“Bye, Timmy!” Harper said without taking her eyes off her game. “Feel better soon.”

Armie smirked at this and eyed Timmy as though to point out his daughter’s good behaviour and say ‘how the fuck are you doing this?’ 

Armie was only gone for about five minutes, but it felt so much longer for Timothée who was still struggling to keep his eyes open. When he returned after making sure that the kids were fine on their own, Armie pulled a chair across the room and sat down by the younger man’s bedside, looking like he wanted to talk. 

“Where were you earlier?” Timmy asked before he could stop himself. “Liz said you had some errands to run.” 

Armie just smiled at him, dodging the question as he remarked tranquilly:

“You know… It was weird walking in on you holding Ford in your arms like that. Have you ever even held a baby before? You looked like a natural. You must have a pretty good paternal instinct or something.” 

Timmy reciprocated his smile, even though Armie’s comment made him feel strange. Had Armie been watching him sleep? What was this really a comment on? Was Armie secretly asking him how he felt about kids, or was he merely trying to pay him a somewhat random compliment? 

“Oh… Thanks.” Timmy forced a chuckle. “Nah, I don’t know – I’ve never felt paternal.”

“No?”

“No – hell, I’m way too young for that, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” Armie responded with a shrug, “I remember wanting kids when I was your age.”

“Really?” Timmy hadn’t expected their conversation to go this way and he was starting to feel weirder and weirder about it. “I don’t think I see myself ever having kids.” 

Armie frowned. “You don’t want to?”

“I’m not sure. I probably wouldn’t be good at it.” Timmy shrugged. “Anyway, you never answered my question.”

“Which was?” Armie was pretending not to remember. 

“Where were you earlier? Liz told me that you were out.” 

Something in Armie’s expression darkened, but then he just smirked. Timmy then realised that the older man had been keeping something from him.

“I’ll show you,” Armie suggested quietly, but it almost sounded like a dare. “Do you think you can get up and walk for a second? It’s downstairs in the hallway.”

“What is?”

“You’ll see.” 

Timmy hesitated before pushing himself up from the mattress and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. When he paused and clenched his eyes shot, frowning, Armie could tell that he was in pain.

“Here, give me your hand. I’ll help you,” the bigger man offered, reaching for him. “You’re not feeling dizzy, are you?” 

“No,” Timmy lied, masking the second wave of discomfort that was suddenly over him, “I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

Armie took his hand and also wrapped an arm around his shoulders, supporting him and so, Timmy managed to stand up without losing his balance and falling over. His head was throbbing excruciatingly, but for some reason, he felt driven by Armie’s encouragement. Though it did hurt, a little bit of walking wouldn’t kill him. 

“Huh. I forgot that you were wearing both my wife’s shirt and shorts.” Armie remarked as Timmy took a small step towards him and as soon as he felt Armie’s eyes scanning over his body, taking in his small waist and skinny legs, he tensed and felt his face turning uncomfortably hot. The shorts were grey and much too short for his liking, though thankfully, at least they weren’t tight on him. He had seen Liz wearing them at the beach before, they were probably among her favourite pairs. Of course Armie hadn’t forgotten what he was wearing...

“Your boxer shorts were too big for me, remember,” Timmy replied with a shrug, looking down at his feet in order to avoid Armie’s gaze, “I bet you chose these for me, anyway. Not Liz.”

Armie chuckled.

“What? They suit you,” he joked, but in reality, what Armie was hoping that he would never have to admit to another soul was the fact that next time he was to see Liz wearing her shorts again, he would, inevitably and involuntarily, end up thinking about Timmy, and he would remember the young man’s exposed skin along with the elegant shape of his lean frame, his arms and legs. 

Armie’s smile tightened and he realised that he had to take his eyes off the other. 

“I should go back to my place and put on some of my own clothes,” Timmy sighed, feeling increasingly self-conscious. 

“No need,” Armie told him simply.

Timmy didn’t understand until, one step at a time, Armie had helped him down the stairs, holding Timmy closer against him after realising just how agonized he was by even the smallest of movements. When they made it to the hallway, Armie stopped and allowed Timmy to take a look around him.

Timmy’s suitcase had been left by the door next to a bunch of bags and cardboard boxes containing every possession that Timmy had brought to L.A. with him; all of his clothes, his shoes, his jackets, his bedsheets, his towels, his pillows, his kitchen tools and Tupperware, his computer, his CD’s, his books, his toiletries, his cheap hair products, his hangers, his armchair, even his night lamp and his small-sized side table, all of it, Armie had picked up from the room that he had rented and moved into less than two months ago, and he had brought it all here, putting everything on display for Timmy to see.

Timmy almost couldn’t believe his own eyes.

“My… my stuff…” He uttered, feeling speechless.

“It’s all here,” Armie assured him, his hand resting firmly on his shoulder. “That’s what Liz meant when she told you that I was out. I’ve been busy collecting your things all morning. I’m sorry, I didn’t have a chance to tell you until now.”

“But, Armie…” Timmy swallowed silently and held his breath. “Why would you move my stuff out of my room? I will have to go back eventually… It’s where I live.” 

“No way,” Armie said suddenly and strictly. “There’s no way that I’m ever letting you go back to that dump – to those people. God, T, I could never let you go through that!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that your housemate is the brother of the douchebag that gave you this,” Armie touched at Timmy’s swollen cheek, causing the younger man to flinch. “Needless to say, I no longer trust any of them. It wouldn’t be safe for you to live there. It would only be a matter of time before Travis, that bastard, showed up and started bothering you again.”

Timmy’s mouth fell open and closed again as he was struggling to find his words.

“But… but if I lose that room, I have nowhere else to go. Armie, I’ll be homeless!” He exclaimed fretfully, through quick, laboured breaths. “They took me in when I needed a place to stay… They are my friends. They – they wouldn’t kick me out…”

“Is that so?” Armie remarked sternly. “T, when I arrived at your friends’ house, Travis had already told them what happened. He had told them that I attacked him unfairly and guess what, his younger brother believed every word he’d said. When I told him what Travis did to you, he didn’t believe me.”

“Armie, no!” Timmy hissed, cringing. “Please tell me you didn’t tell them…”

“Of course I told them!” Armie roared. “They deserve to know what a piece of shit Travis really is! Anyway, guess whose side they took?” He snorted with revulsion. He was clearly upset. “These people are not going to protect you, Timmy. So I want you to stay the hell away from them! Don’t you know? You can do so much better…”

“You don’t get it,” Timmy said with a shake of his head. “I have no money… I can’t just find an apartment on my own. I’ve been out of work for months. I will have to go back to live with my parents…”

“No,” Armie told him, sounding suddenly gentle as he gripped Timmy’s wrist and made him look at him, “you won’t be homeless, T. You’ll be staying with us. That’s why I brought all your stuff here. We’ve got plenty of space – you’ll have everything you need until you get back on your feet.” 

“Are you insane?” Timmy cried, shaking his head stubbornly. “No – no, I can’t! I would never be able to pay you back…”

“We wouldn’t want you to,” Armie persisted. “I’ve already talked to Liz about this and we both agree. We… we haven’t been there for you enough. I haven’t been there for you. I realise that you’ve had a rough year and that I am responsible for letting that happen. Inviting you into our home is the least we can do after everything that’s happened.”

“Armie…”

“No, listen – you were injured under my roof. Because I left you alone with that scumbag. I owe this to you, so let me help you.”

“It’s not right,” Timmy objected. “I – I can’t do this to Liz… She’s already put up with me for much too long.” 

“What are you talking about?” Armie furrowed his brow. “I’ve asked her, she agrees. We both want you to stay.”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Timmy sighed, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Please, don’t pretend you don’t know…” 

Armie fell silent for a moment. He was watching the younger man intensely. Timmy looked utterly uncomfortable with Armie’s resolution. He looked so small and helpless as he was stood there before him. He could suddenly see that Timothée would be lost on his own, and that he had been for a while. He refused to send him back out there. He had to protect him. He had to make up for the mistakes that he had already made in the past. 

“Timmy,” he began in a lowered voice, but Timmy cut him off.

“I don’t get it,” he whimpered, on the cusp of tears. “Why is Liz being so nice to me? How come she doesn’t hate me? She lets me wear her clothes, she lets me play with her kids, she cooks me breakfast and now she’s offering me to move in with you guys?” He shook his head again, feeling like a ton of bricks had just fallen on him. “After what you and I did… behind her back… she ought to kick me out.” 

“No,” Armie protested, trying to sooth him. “It isn’t like that. Timmy, she cares about you. I told you, she forgave you a long time ago.” 

“But why?” Timmy wiped at his eyes. “We never even talked about it. I never apologized. We’ve all been so busy pretending that it never happened… How can she possibly be over it?” 

“Because I ensured her that it would never happen again.” Armie’s expression grew anguished and troubled. “She trusts us. She trusts that we know better now.” 

Timmy felt like he couldn’t breathe. He had known for a while now that Armie and him were over and that they had been so ever since they got caught. He had known since the first headline that it would be too selfish, too stupid and risky to continue. But for some reason, hearing Armie say it out loud still broke his young and innocent heart. 

“So… She trusts you completely around me?” Timmy knew that his voice was failing him. “She doesn’t mind it when you and I talk in private? She doesn’t go through your phone to check if you and I have been calling each other in secret?” 

He sounded grief-stricken and he didn’t even know why. Had he hoped that there would be drama? Had he actually wanted Liz to make a scene and to play the bitchy, jealous wife just so that he could feel sorry for himself? 

“T, what do you want me to say?” Armie shrugged, though he gave him another one of his sympathetic looks. “There’s no easy way for me to put this, but… I guess she has good reason not to feel threatened by you.” 

That felt like a slap to his face. Timmy was shocked at first, though it wasn’t so much Armie’s honesty that had him momentarily frozen; it was his own surprise to hearing this. What on earth had he expected? He didn’t stand a chance against someone like Liz. She was beautiful, funny, caring. She had given Armie two perfect kids. She was everything that Timmy was not. And after all, over meant over. He had lost Armie a long time ago. If only he hadn’t been so inexperienced, so thick – maybe then he would have gotten the message from the beginning.

“Oh,” he said, feeling everything slowing down around him. 

He forgot about his tender head. He forgot about the loss of his housemates and his so-called friends. For a second or two, he was utterly oblivious to the fact that after all, the world did not evolve around him and Armie alone. 

“T…” Armie whispered, looking regretful. “I’m sorry, I-“

“No,” Timmy interrupted him. “No, it’s okay – really, you don’t have to explain. I get it.”

It was awkward. It was painful. And for some reason, unexpected, too.

“Uh… Thanks for getting my stuff for me,” Timmy said then, taking a step away from Armie almost subconsciously. 

Armie looked burdened with guilt.

“T, I – I really didn’t mean to-“

This time, Armie was interrupted by the sound of the front door unlocking. Armie and Timmy were both left feeling dumbfounded when Liz entered the hallway, having left Archie in the garden, and stopped to take a look at them both.

“Timmy!” She uttered, removing her headset and pausing the music on her phone. “What are you doing out of bed? Armie, did you drag him down here? He isn’t supposed to be walking unnecessarily!” Her voice soon filled with accusation.

Armie’s gaze shifted and landed on Liz, who was now wiping the sweat off her forehead. Before Armie could respond, Timmy stepped forward and grabbed one of the bags containing his clothes. 

“Sorry,” he told her, avoiding the look that Armie was giving him, “I didn’t mean to move about. It’s just that I heard that Armie picked up my stuff for me, so I thought I should maybe shower and get changed.” 

“Oh, I see.” Liz gave him a quick smile and nodded her head. “Of course, sweetie, go ahead. But you should go lie down after that, do you hear me? Otherwise you’ll never get rid of your headaches.” 

“I know, I know,” Timmy reciprocated her smile slightly apologetically. He spun around and headed for the stairs. “Thanks again, guys – you know… For letting me stay.”

Once he had climbed the stairs, slowly and unsteadily, and they heard the door opening to the bathroom upstairs, Liz glared at her husband with dissatisfaction.

“You couldn’t have brought him his clothes so that he didn’t have to go all the way down here? He’s in pain, Armie! We need to be there for him so that he doesn’t strain himself.” 

Armie groaned and rolled his eyes at her. 

“Oh, right. Yeah, I guess that’s why you had him looking after the kids for you so you could go jogging!” He hit back almost cruelly. “I mean, for crying out loud, Liz, he’s not our babysitter! If you needed someone to watch the kids, you should have just waited for me to come home.” 

“Ha!” She retorted angrily. “That’s so easy for you to say – you’re always out doing your own thing, aren’t you? Never mind my plans for the day, I’m just here to be your housewife and look after the kids for you! You didn’t even bother telling me when you’d be back…” 

“Give me a break, will you? I’ve been working hard all day, packing his stuff into boxes and bringing it all back here… It’s not like I’ve been out having fun!”

Liz crossed her arms and took a long, hard look at him. 

“How did it go?” She finally asked, giving up her scolding. “What did his friends say?”

Armie huffed and shook his head tiredly. 

“They wanted to press charges against me for Travis’s injuries. They didn’t even care when I told them what he did to Timmy.” Armie clenched both his fists and Liz detected her husband’s anger. “There’s no way that I could let Timmy go back to live with those traitors. Travis would be there to find him again. He would start abusing him again and there would be no one to intervene. His friends would just sit back and let it happen.”

Liz walked up to her husband and threw her arms around him.

“I know,” she whispered. “You were right to move his things out of there. As long as Timmy stays here, Travis won’t be able to get to him again. He’s safe, thanks to you.” 

“I hope.” Armie furrowed his brow in deep thought. “He just seems so… vulnerable these days. It’s like something has changed him.” 

Elizabeth kissed his cheek and eventually, Armie snapped out of it.

“Give him time,” she suggested. “He’s young and confused. That would make anyone feel vulnerable, I guess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an additional note - next chapter is going to have Timmy and Armie talking privately about Travis and about the impact that the attack has had on Timmy.


	7. Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie and Timmy finally talk about everything that's happened. Armie, however, fails to see the bigger picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, I'm afraid, isn't very long. Still, I felt like it was time for Timmy and Armie to have a heart-to-heart, even if it doesn't go as planned.
> 
> Next chapter will be longer and (sorry for the teaser) might even see the returning of Nick... (As requested xD ) 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the support :))

Armie went back upstairs to knock at Timmy’s door later in the evening when he and Liz hadn’t heard from him for a couple of hours. Liz had made everyone dinner and had brought a plate upstairs for Timmy, but he appeared to have lost his appetite. Liz blamed this on the painkillers, but Armie had soon started to worry. 

He knocked on his door and when Timmy’s voice had sounded, inviting him inside, Armie let himself in. The first thing that he noticed was the fact that the lights had been left off in his room.

“Oh, sorry – were you trying to sleep?” Armie asked him gently, but Timmy simply shook his head. It became apparent to the older man that Timmy had just been lying awake in the dark, absorbed in his own thoughts. Armie instantly wondered what was on Timmy’s mind. “Are you okay?”

Timmy switched on his night lamp so that he could see Armie’s face more clearly. 

“I just feel like everything’s such a mess at the moment,” the boy confessed sullenly, shrugging his shoulders. When Armie closed the door behind him and went to take a seat next to his bedside, Timmy bit his lip curiously. “Did Liz send you to check up on me?” He probed. 

“No,” Armie smiled at him, “I came because I wanted to check up on you. How’s your head?”

“Better, thanks.”

“Liar,” Armie smirked.

“What?” Timmy pulled a face. “How do you know?”

“Because I can literally see a million different thoughts being processed somewhere behind those pensive, brooding eyes of yours,” Armie remarked mockingly. “You need to stop thinking so hard. It’s not good for you.” 

“Oh, thanks,” Timmy chuckled sarcastically, “now that you’ve told me to simply stop thinking about things, I guess it’ll be easier for me to just clear my head.” 

“Hmm. Sassy as ever, I see,” Armie smirked, “at least some things will never change.” 

Timmy rolled his eyes at him.

“Yeah – and as always, you’re not funny,” he hit back.

“Ouch,” Armie said, feigning offense. “Okay then, I take it back. Maybe you’ll find it easier to stop thinking so much if you talked about it instead. So tell me – what’s on your mind?”

Timmy gave him a hesitant look before simply staring up into the ceiling instead.

“I don’t want to bore you,” he warned him, but Armie wasn’t having any of that.

“T,” he said seriously, “it’s me. You can tell me anything. I still care, you know.” 

For some reason, Timmy didn’t look too convinced.

“I’m just remembering a few things that Travis said to me last night,” he admitted cautiously, tensing up. “I know it’s stupid, but… I just can’t get it out of my head. He was so furious with me.”

“Furious? Because you didn’t want to sleep with him?” In no time, Armie was back to feeling both protective and also pissed off. “What did he say to you? You… you never really told me how it all happened.” 

Timmy let out a slightly nervous chuckle. 

“I was being an idiot,” he stated tiredly. “I kept promising him something that I knew I never wanted to give him. I kept telling him ‘later!’” 

Armie cocked an eyebrow at that.

“Later?”

“Yeah. Later.” Timmy sighed. “I should have told him right from the start that I wasn’t interested. Because last night, he got sick of waiting. He claimed that I owed him. He was drunk and he started getting aggressive when I tried to turn him down.” 

“Fucking hell,” Armie uttered, cursing under his breath. “I should have known. I could practically see it in his eyes, I mean. He had no shame.”

“You can say that again,” Timmy snorted. “He threw me down on the bed and I had to knee him in the groin just to get him off me.” 

Armie raised his head and gave him a horrified look. 

“T, I’m so sorry.” His voice was shaken and disturbed. “I – I can’t believe he jumped on you like that. You’re so much smaller than him. He’s a fucking coward.” 

Timmy shrugged.

“At first, I almost thought I had managed to make him stop. But then he got even angrier with me. I should have run away from him, but I couldn’t even think straight.”

“Was that when he started hitting you?” Armie guessed. “As a revenge for you kicking him in the nuts?” 

For some reason, Timmy found himself smiling at that.

“It wasn’t just about that. He was mad about something else, too…” He paused. This was something that he wasn’t used to telling Armie about. This was all part of something bigger, something major that had come back to haunt him, hurt him and break him repeatedly over the past year. 

So far, Armie had been blissfully unaware of his ordeal. Or so, he appeared to have been.

“Tim,” Armie urged him on, reaching for his hand. “What is it? Please tell me.” 

Timmy smiled again, even as he felt warm tears tickling his eyes. 

“He called me a slut. Or a whore. Or both, maybe, I can’t actually remember.” Armie frowned confusedly, so he elaborated. “He told me that he’s been reading all these stories about me in the papers. He said that he knew I liked older men. Rich men. He said that he knew I was promiscuous. Because that’s what everyone’s been saying about me.” 

Armie’s glare intensified and his hold on Timmy’s hand tightened.

“Is that – is that what the newspapers have been writing about you?” He asked with distaste. “That you sleep around?” 

Timmy yanked his hand out of Armie’s hold. He felt suddenly livid with him for pretending not to know, not to have heard of all the rumours. 

“Of course it is,” he snapped, “even here, I’ve got a reputation! Everyone knows – they’re all talking behind my back! I suck dicks for money – I sleep with married men – I’m constantly on the lookout for a new Sugar Daddy…” 

He wiped at his eyes irately when he felt Armie’s large hand clutching his shoulder.

“Hey – look at me,” whispered the blond man, “people know it’s not true. People know it’s all lies.” 

“Oh yeah? Then how come I get harassed wherever I go?” Timmy exclaimed. “How come people shout and make fun of me in the street?”

“They don’t,” Armie responded without thinking, “do they?”

“Well you wouldn’t know because you haven’t been there,” Timmy remarked bitterly. “You have no idea what I’ve been through, do you?”

“Timmy…”

“It all started after they took that picture of us together,” wept the younger man. “But for some reason, they’ve blamed everything on me. People think I’m a whore… People think I’m your whore…” 

“What?” Armie withdrew his hand, slowly. “What do you mean people think you’re my whore?” 

“That’s what Travis called me…” Timmy sniffled. “Right before he slapped me against the wall… He said that I had used him just to get to you. That I was your whore. H-he used all the rumours against me… He acted like he hated me.” 

Armie leaned back in his seat, seemingly astonished. It was plastered all over his face; the alarm, the disbelief. He was simply repulsed by everything he’d just heard.

“Do people… Do people think I used to pay you for sex?” Armie sounded wounded. It was like the consequences of their past mistakes had only just caught up with him now. “Tim, you – you were never my whore. You know that, don’t you? What happened between us… It was wrong, but it was profound, too. It wasn’t sick – it wasn’t what they claim it to be. It wasn’t us being promiscuous.” 

“I know,” Timmy uttered hollowly. “I was in love with you, Armie. I meant every second of it. And now people think I was just after your money.” When Armie remained silent, he blurted out: “I still think about us all the time.”

Finally, this seemed to push the older man over the edge. 

“Timmy – stop.”

“I still miss you,” the brunette sobbed, rubbing his fingers against his eyes aggressively, “I know I’m not supposed to, but now that we’re around each other again…”

“Woah, hold on,” Armie intervened, jumping up from his chair, “we – we can’t talk about this. You know we can’t.” 

“Do you still think about me?” Timmy asked him pleadingly, feeling like a child. “Are you really over me?”

“Don’t,” Armie groaned miserably, shaking his head. “Please don’t start that again. We’ve been doing so well. We finally managed to put it all behind us.”

“What if I don’t want to put it behind me?” Timmy begged. “Armie, please – we used to be friends. We used to be there for each other.”

“Answer me this,” Armie exclaimed suddenly, raising his voice and taking Timmy by surprise. “If you’re still thinking about me, what were you doing with Travis? Why did you go out with him in the first place?” 

Timmy hadn’t seen this coming. For a moment, Armie sounded almost jealous. 

“You said you wanted me to,” his answer sounded plainly. “You said that if I started dating, we could be friends again. You wanted me to get over you.”

“Are you telling me that you let a creep like Travis crawl all over you just because I told you to move on?” Armie sounded mind-blown. Aghast. “Do I really hold that kind of power over you? Timmy, this is wrong…”

“You pushed me out of your life, Armie!” Timmy cried with accusation. “For the past year, you’ve been acting like I never even existed! So when you told me that there was a way for us to be friends again, I had no other choice but to do what you wanted me to!” 

Armie slumped back down on the chair, his face blank with horror. 

“This was my fault,” he whispered, shutting down completely. “I let you expose yourself to Travis, even though he is a predator… And you got hurt because of me…” 

“I didn’t get hurt because you told me to date again,” Timmy remarked with a huff. “Don’t you get it? Travis isn’t the one ruining my life – the media is. They’re the ones branding me a slut. It’s because of their stories that people like Travis assume I like it rough.” 

Armie looked like he wanted to be sick. 

“You need to keep a low profile, Tim,” was all he could say. “You must be careful and protect yourself. Stop going out with people you don’t know.” 

“I’ve known Travis for years and he still attacked me,” Timmy sighed. “I can’t keep putting my life on hold, Armie. The past months have been a living hell for me. I used to barricade myself inside my apartment because I was too scared that someone would recognise me in the street. There has to be another way.”

“Another way?” Armie sounded startled. “How can you stop the press from writing their stories? How can you make people change their minds about you?”

Timmy bit his lip and thought about it for a moment.

“I can’t. But maybe you can,” he said. 

“Me?” Armie acted as though this was the most outrageous thing he’d ever heard. “Timmy, I don’t have the connections you think I have. I can’t magically make people stop believing what they read.”

“You can tell them the truth!” Timmy snapped impatiently. “You never gave them a statement – instead, you let them speculate and scrutinize me.”

“I did not!” Armie objected.

“Armie, please – if you told everyone the truth about what happened, all the lies would stop. The media would back off and leave me alone.”

“The truth?” Armie repeated, knitting his eyebrows together. “You want me to tell everyone the truth? What is the truth, Timmy?”

“You know what it is,” Timmy growled at him. “The truth is that I slept with you because I was in love with you. Stupid, but in love. I didn’t do it because I’m a gold-digger. I didn’t do it because I wanted to break you and Liz up, or because I wanted fame. Armie, please – I need people to know this.” 

“No,” Armie breathed, shaking his head stubbornly, “I can’t – I’ve already put it all behind me…”

“But I haven’t!” Timmy pleaded. “It’s been a year, but people are still laughing at me! They are still calling me names…”

“I can’t do it to Liz,” Armie reasoned, holding up his hand like that was the end of it. “Timmy, I’m sorry, but – I have to put her first. I don’t want to humiliate my wife.” 

“What about me? You’ve humiliated me…” 

Suddenly, Timmy’s voice was nothing but a broken, desperate prayer. He knew that he was fighting a losing battle. He knew that Armie wasn’t going to change his mind. Still – this was his life that they were talking about. Timmy deserved better than to have Armie giving up on him. Someone had to at least try to turn things around before it was too late.

Armie was through with their conversation, however.

“Look, I’m so sorry that you got hurt,” Armie uttered lamely, sounding like a broken record as he moved to Timmy’s bedside, bowed down and kissed the younger man’s forehead almost completely platonically, leaving Timmy to choke up all over again, “God knows I hate seeing you like this.”

“Armie. Wait…”

“But there is nothing I can do. And I don’t think you and I should have this talk again. Not behind my wife’s back. I love her and I am going to remain faithful to her.”

“Are you embarrassed of me, Armie?” Timmy challenged him madly, disregarding the way that Armie’s comments on loyalty felt like the biggest betrayal of all. Here he was, humble and demeaned in his begging for mercy and yet, all Armie could do was throw his love for Liz in his face and beat him senseless with it. “Are you worried it will damage your image if you stand up for me?” He pressed on. “Is that why you won’t help me? Or is Liz just an excuse for you to hide behind?”

When Timmy sobbed and let the tears spill across his cheeks, Armie wiped at them before kissing his head again. Timmy drew away from him. Armie’s kisses were no longer tender and he didn’t mean them; Timmy decided he no longer wanted them.

“Of course I’m not embarrassed of you. But there’s nothing I can do. My hands are tied.”

“They are not,” Timmy growled resentfully. “You are worried that I’m going to take you down with me if I fall. Aren’t you?” 

“Promise me you’ll stay with us,” the blond man said shallowly, pretending not to have heard him, or perhaps simply choosing to be ruthless in his ignoring him. “As long as you’re here, I can keep you safe. As long as you’re here, nothing is going to happen to you ever again.”

Armie was expecting some kind of response from him, but in the end, Timmy couldn’t stop weeping.

Armie had given him nothing; no hope to cling onto at all.


	8. Recoveries and Relapses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy spends his time in Armie's home to rest and let the wounds heal. However, does this mean he's actually feeling better? 
> 
> Armie has another talk with Timmy as he hopes to restore their friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your comments <3
> 
> Here is chapter 8 - in which Nick returns haha. (By popular demand). And in which Timmy sees Armie in his swimming trunks and struggles to get over it.
> 
> Once again, thanks so much for reading :) And sorry for taking so long to respond to comments! I promise I will get to it ^^

After a week of remaining bedridden and physically delicate, Timothée was finally looked over by Dr Rueben who permitted him to leave his room and move about again. The garden was the place that Timmy sought first. He had missed being outdoors, missed feeling the breeze in his hair and the sun on his face. As he made his way downstairs and stepped out to walk across Armie and Elizabeth’s lawn barefooted, the young man closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Here, in the centre of crazy, noisy L.A., he had finally found a way to take shelter and feel at peace. 

He was stretching out his arms and letting his head fall back as he welcomed the warmth from the sun. He didn’t hear the door to the garden opening behind him. He did, however, hear the sound of Armie chuckling at what he saw.

“Is someone feeling better?” Sounded the familiar, deep voice that Timothée could practically hear the grin of as it spread across Armie’s lips. 

He spun around slowly to look over at the blond man. 

“If I had to spend another day in bed with the blinds pulled down, I think I would have lost my mind,” joked the brunette who didn’t feel the need to hide the fact that he had been slowly suffocating with boredom. His head had felt worse every time he had watched TV, listened to music, looked at his phone or picked up a book to read. The only thing he had been able to do was sleep, or get lost in his own thoughts which, as always, meant being on dangerous ground. 

He was finally ready to put those slow, secluded days behind him.

Armie smirked again and stepped out into the grass, joining the younger man. 

“I thought you could do with a cold drink,” he said, reaching out his hand to offer Timmy a can of coke, “you need to stay hydrated in this heat.” 

Timmy had nearly responded with a sarcastic ‘thanks, Dad,’ but had thought better of it. He realised that he could no longer get away with making the same jokes as before. It would put Armie on edge immediately, which there wouldn’t be any coming back from. 

Instead, Timmy smirked as he accepted the drink.

“Here I was, expecting a cold beer,” he teased the older man. “Any chance I could do a swap?” 

Armie snorted at his banter.

“Yeah, right. Keep dreaming,” he responded with amusement. “You’re still on painkillers, buddy. You’re not supposed to mix and I don’t want to be sprinkling the lawn just to wash your puke off it.” 

Timmy rolled his eyes at him and took a sip from the can. 

“You’re no fun,” he taunted before going quiet again.

Armie watched as Timmy turned his back on him and walked over to shade himself underneath the big trees. The kid was wearing a white t-shirt over dark, skin-tight jeans. He caught himself staring at Timmy’s bared arms, his skin, the shape of his thin legs and small hips as he walked. A gentle breeze gushed through Timmy’s hair for a moment, and all Armie could see was dark curls falling everywhere, blowing in the wind, causing Armie to want to grasp at them and smooth the locks behind Timmy’s ears. 

He shook his head slightly, giving himself a mental slap on the wrist. It had been a while since he had allowed himself to daydream so freely. 

“Are your headaches truly gone? Or does it still hurt?” Armie prodded caringly as he followed Timmy into the shade. Timmy had sat himself down on the ground, but instead of copying this move, Armie remained stood, towering over the brunette like he was ogling him from a watchtower. Timmy looked up at him like Armie was a new-found horizon, blocking the sun and taking it down with him. 

“I dunno,” Timmy shrugged, drinking from his coke quietly, “if it hurts, it’s usually not for long. The pills keep me from feeling much of it, I guess.” 

“So you’re feeling better?”

“I suppose. Why do you ask?” 

“Hey, I’m just showing my concern,” Armie replied in his own defense, though with a chuckle, “obviously I care if you’re feeling better or not, T.” 

Timmy knitted his brow and gave Armie a pensive look.

“You’re asking because there’s something you need to tell me,” observed the younger man, “I can see it in your eyes. What happened? Is something wrong?”

“Woah, hold on now,” Armie objected, holding both hands up in front of him, acting even more defensive than before, “since when do you believe you can actually read my mind, huh? You don’t know what I’m thinking – why do you automatically assume that something’s wrong?” 

Armie grinned widely, but somehow, Timmy seemed to grow agitated. Impatient. 

“I know you,” uttered the younger man, sounding almost bitter and it took Armie by surprise, “I can tell when you’re keeping something from me. Armie, please – I’m too tired to play games. What is it?” 

“Wow, you’ve got some serious mood-swings going on,” Armie joked as he cocked an eyebrow, though Timothée didn’t find it funny. “You’re acting so suspicious of me all of a sudden.” 

“Maybe that’s because you’ve been avoiding me for the past few days,” Timmy muttered under his breath almost casually as he looked away, avoiding Armie’s eyes.

Armie heard.

“Avoiding you? I haven’t been avoiding you.”

Timmy sighed, tilting his head like he could barely find the strength to continue this conversation.

“Please, stop. Can you stop pretending that you don’t know what I’m talking about, just for one second?” Timmy’s request was wrapped in a small groan and somehow, Armie knew he had screwed up again. “Ever since we had that talk,” Timmy held a short, though significant pause, “you’ve been staying far away from my room. You haven’t been checking up on me, not even once. Liz has. What is it? Are you afraid to be alone with me?” 

“No. Of course not,” Armie told him sincerely, though somehow, he knew his honesty wasn’t enough. 

“Were you worried that I was going to ask you more inappropriate questions?” Timmy ventured boldly. “Questions that you don’t want to answer, I mean.” 

“No,” Armie said firmly this time. “No, it’s not that. Although I meant what I said – you know that there are things concerning our… past… that I can’t talk about. I just can’t.”

“Fine,” Timmy humoured him. “What is it then? If you weren’t trying to avoid me, then how come I’ve barely seen you?”

“Because,” Armie told him vaguely, “I – I thought you were mad at me. I thought that, after our last conversation, you wouldn’t want to see me. I was trying to give you some space.”

“Space? I didn’t need any space. In fact, I have too much of it,” Timmy laughed hollowly. “Don’t you get it? I’ve been confined to one bedroom for a whole week now. I thought I was going to die with boredom! I could have really used someone to talk to. I’ve already lost so many of my old friends, Armie. I don’t want you to disappear on me, too.”

“Then… I won’t.” Armie suddenly felt like a huge idiot. He squatted down next to the brunette, trying to keep him at eyelevel as he reached out and touched Timmy’s arm reassuringly. It was a small gesture, but it was better than nothing. “I want to be here for you, T. I really do. Sometimes I just feel like I hurt you, when all I want to do is make you happy.” 

Now this was something that Timmy hadn’t expected to hear from him. For a moment, Armie’s words had his heart swelling and fluttering inside his chest, but then he remembered that it was too easy, too effortless on Armie’s end – he had suffered a lot of scars over this man, and Armie wasn’t going to make it up to him with just one little sentence. 

“Sometimes I feel like you don’t listen to me,” Timmy confessed before he could stop himself. He hadn’t even meant to open up to Armie. Not again, not after his most recent failure. “I feel like you don’t take me seriously." 

Armie nodded quietly, making sure to hear him out this time and to take his words in. 

“I’m sorry,” he told him earnestly.

“I feel like… you don’t know what I’ve been through.” Timmy held his gaze with determination. Armie was giving him his big, blue puppy-dog eyes, but it wasn’t going to soften him this time. He finally had the older man’s attention. “I feel like you’ve been looking the other way when I’ve been having a… hard time.” 

Armie nodded slowly. 

“I hear you,” he responded rather thoughtfully. “And to show you that I care, and that I want to stick up for you,” Armie added, “I’m going to promise to stop keeping things from you. Okay? You’re right. I shouldn’t have been avoiding you. It’s not fair. The truth is…” Armie hesitated. “Travis came to see you the other day.” 

Timmy thought he could hear the sound of a nuclear bomb falling on him. Then, only white noise.

“What?” He stammered somewhat breathlessly. “Are you serious? Armie-“ 

“The idiot rang our doorbell and asked to see you,” Armie snorted with a shake of his head, “he actually thought I would let him anywhere near you! His mother must have dropped him on his head when he was a baby.” 

“What did he say?” Timmy asked him urgently. “And what did you say?”

“He said he was sorry. That he wanted to see you and make things right. He blamed it all on the alcohol and claimed to have come to his senses. He thought the two of you really had something, which is why he was desperate for you to forgive him.” 

Armie pulled a disgusted face.

“And?” Timmy pressed on, holding his breath. “What happened next?”

“Then I told him to fuck off, or I would finish what I started on his neck,” huffed the blond man. “If it’s any consolation, I bruised him pretty badly. I think it must have scared him straight, because he stormed off almost immediately. When Liz came up behind me and told him she’d call the police, he was gone in seconds. Perhaps he finally got the message.”

This left Timmy with one final crushing realisation.

“He didn’t ask how I was, did he?” Timmy attempted at a smile, but faltered when he knew he didn’t have it in him. “He doesn’t care that he nearly cracked my skull open…”

“He’s a fucking moron,” Armie cursed without sugarcoating it, being his usual self and finally, Timmy was grateful for that, “he hasn’t learned a damned thing. He didn’t show up because he was sorry. He was probably just feeling lonely, or horny, and so he thought that he could prey on you again.” 

Timmy nodded at that.

“He thinks I’m an easy target,” he muttered. “A pushover.”

“You are not a pushover,” Armie told him strictly, “and you are not an easy target. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am safer for staying with you guys.” Timmy swallowed a lump in his throat. “Thanks, Armie.” 

“No. No need to thank me.” Armie looked down in the ground, seemingly frustrated with himself. He knew he wasn’t Timmy’s saviour. If anything, he was the one who had talked the kid into staying with them, causing Timmy to depend on him to an extent that easily seemed unhealthy and detrimental to them both. He wasn’t helping Timmy to stand up for himself, not this way. He was protecting him again because it was his instinct, his honest desire. But how long could this go on for? Eventually, Timmy would have to let go of him and Armie would have to set him free so that he could live his own life without getting punished by Armie’s every case of forgetfulness. “You’ve done so much to spare my reputation. I realise that now. If anyone’s made any sacrifices, it’s you. And I know that I’m in your debt because of it.” Armie wanted to take Timmy’s hand, but he thought better of it. “If I can return the favour and help you get rid of creeps like Travis, I’m happy to do it.” 

Armie offered him a candid smile and Timmy returned it reluctantly. 

“So what’s the plan?” Timmy asked him with a small sigh, though he let his smile widen. “How long am I going to stay with you guys for? Everything I came to L.A. for has basically been interrupted.”

“I know,” Armie chuckled, “you’ve had a messy start. Don’t worry. You can stay here as long as you need to. Take some time to clear your head. Liz enjoys having you here. She says it’s been nice having someone to talk to about girls’ stuff. She keeps going on about your hair and your fashion sense. I’m surprised she hasn’t asked to do your nails or pluck your eyebrows yet.”

Timmy nearly burst out with a laugh, but instead pretended that he was going to throw his coke can in Armie’s face. 

“Oh shut up, you wouldn’t know!” Timmy tutted at him. “You were born perfect, weren’t you? No one ever needed to give you a makeover.” 

“Yeah, I’m pretty great,” Armie agreed smugly, cherishing the way that he and Timmy had always been able to make each other laugh. “Anyway, since you brought it up – I actually promised Liz I would help her do the dishes. We’re having a couple of friends over tonight, I don’t know if she told you?”

“Yeah, she did. You better give her a hand, she’s already doing like ninety percent of all the work in the house,” Timmy said, poking fun at him one last time. 

“Gosh,” Armie responded, rolling his eyes, “you girls really do stick up for each other.”

“Shut up,” Timmy told him again. “You’re not funny.”

“Any chance you want to join me? You do the washing, I do the drying?” He offered like a right bastard.

“Not a chance,” Timmy mocked him, leaning back in the grass, “I have been locked up for too long, I’m finally going to enjoy the sun. And I’m not going to let you stop me.” 

“Alright, alright, you little caged bird,” Armie spoke with amusement as he got up from the lawn and stretched his legs, “enjoy your freedom. Stay out of my mini-fridge, though. I’m serious – mixing painkillers with beer is a bad idea!” 

As Armie turned around and walked back inside the house, Timmy watched him in silence. For a moment, everything felt kind of surreal and unfamiliar, like he had suddenly entered uncharted territory together with the older man and soon found himself longing for better known, much safer terrain. Sometimes, it felt like things were changing so fast, Timmy could no longer recognise himself in his old surroundings. Perhaps he hadn’t changed concurrently with everyone else; perhaps he had changed a thousand times faster than them, leaving him to not only feel significantly older, but out of place, too. 

Timothée lied down on his back and decided to focus on nothing except the sensation of cold grass tickling his skin, the gentle breeze caressing his face and the sound of rare, unspoiled bliss. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this relaxed. 

After a while, he had nearly fallen asleep like this. Then, suddenly, there was the sound of Archie running across the garden, tracking down Timmy immediately, and Harper following after, squealing loudly with excitement. Both made their way over to Timmy’s spot where he’d been laying under the trees and as Archie barked and jumped on him, tearing Timmy away from his sun-filled dreams, Harper exclaimed:

“Timmy! Mommy said I could take a swim in the pool! Do you want to swim with me? Pwease?” 

When Timmy looked up, he saw that the little girl was already wearing her pink swimming suit and a couple of orange inflatable swimming wings around her arms, meant to keep her afloat. He petted Archie who was walking in circles around his legs and gave her an apologetic shake of his head.

“Sorry, Hops, the cold water’s not good for my head. I’ll watch you swim, though, how about that?”

“Awright!” The toddler agreed. “But you have to sit right there so I can see you,” she negotiated, pointing to the tiled brink of the swimming pool where the built-in steps invited you into the water.

“Sure,” Timmy smirked, “as long as you promise not to splash any water on me.” 

Twenty minutes later, Timmy was perched on the edge of the swimming pool, having rolled up both legs of his trousers so that he could soak his feet in the cool water, and Harper had already broken her promise as she had sprayed the water all over him on multiple occasions. Perhaps she had thought that he would join her if she got him wet enough, but Timmy knew his headaches wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he participated from the sideline as he threw Harper a ball or an inflated toy every now and again, making sure she had something to play with. If she threw her ball too far and it ended up rolling across the lawn, Archie didn’t hesitate to run after it. The Welsh terrier took great pride in picking up the ball in his mouth and bringing it back to Timmy, who would then hand it over to Harper. As it turned out, keeping an eye on her was a rather busy job. Timmy had to constantly remind her to stay in the shallow end of the pool where the water never reached anywhere above her navel. Harper was quick to forget his instructions as she kept moving, but as long as he kept all of her toys as close to the brink as possible, she didn’t venture too far. 

Liz had joined them in the beginning in order to spread some sunscreen across her daughter’s face. Then she had offered to get Timmy a cold drink, but after that, she had left them to it as she was busy preparing for their guests to arrive. Timmy had fully expected to be left alone with Harper until, against all odds, Armie suddenly stepped out through the kitchen door, wearing nothing but a pair of short, red swimming trunks and a towel draped over his naked shoulder. His tanned, oiled-up skin glistened like a jewel in the sun, drawing Timmy’s eyes to his broad, strong, unshaved chest, though his long legs, his heavy thighs practically bulging with muscles, were something equally flashy and so hard to ignore that Timmy practically had to dig his fingernails into his palm, hard, hoping to distract himself by drawing blood. 

He dared not to look at Armie’s crotch, or the shape of his ass. The swimming trunks weren’t even tight as such, but on an outstandingly large man such as Armie, the thin material left very little to the imagination. 

Timmy stopped breathing as he was momentarily paralysed, but Harper cheered instantaneously:

“Daddy!” 

“Hey, sweetie,” Armie removed his sunglasses and exposed his white teeth as he flashed them both one of his most dashing, most outrageous Hollywood smiles. “How’s the water? Mind if I join you?” 

Harper cheered yet again. Meanwhile, Timmy felt as though his heart had just been turned into stone. 

“God, you’re wet all over,” Armie said suddenly, giving Timmy a look that nearly had the breath catching in his throat, “Harper, did you splash him with water? You know you shouldn’t do that,” he scolded her lightly as he clutched at Timmy’s shoulder, nearly causing the younger man to jump. “Here,” Armie told him kindly, handing him his towel – his soft, fresh, white towel that smelled exactly like him, “guess you could do with some drying. Unless you’re going for a swim yourself?” 

“Yes, Timmy!” Harper pleaded. “Swim with us!” 

Timmy then felt hot and sweaty all over and he knew he had to get out of there while his dignity was still intact. 

“I can’t, I – I think I’m gonna go lie down for a moment,” he stuttered painfully as he withdrew his feet from the water and stood up so quickly that spots began to invade his vision dangerously. 

Armie touched his back as if he was trying to catch him.

“Are you okay?” Asked the blond man with concern. “Is it your head? Do you want me to call Dr Rueben?” 

“No, I’m fine, it’s just,” Timmy shrugged and laughed at his own foolishness, “I think I caught the sun.” When Armie began to look him over, Timmy took a step back and muttered: “Sunstroke. They can really sneak up on you, these things.” 

With Armie’s towel practically clutched to his chest, he excused himself and hurried away from the pool just as Armie dived in and joined his daughter for a swim. Entering the kitchen rather hastily, Timmy was stopped by Liz who held up a wooden spoon to his lips, asking him to taste her homemade goulash.

“Does it need more salt?” She quizzed him, obviously worried what her guests would think.

“No, it’s perfect,” he told her, smiling as he felt at his own flushed cheeks, “don’t worry Liz, they are going to love it.”

“Thanks, hun. You are joining us for dinner, aren’t you? I’m sure everyone would like to see you.”

“Maybe,” he said casually as he shrugged his shoulders, “I might need to rest up for a bit. I’m feeling a bit woozy.”

He shouldn’t have said that. In a heartbeat, Liz was all over him and she was relentless until she had managed to feel his forehead with the back of her hand. 

“You’re a bit warm,” she frowned. “You shouldn’t have stayed out in the sun for so long. Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her, “really, I just need to lie down for a bit. I’m good.” 

When he made it back to his bedroom and could finally close the door behind him, Timmy drew a long breath. At the reminder of Armie’s body, so mighty, sculptured and proud that he might as well have walked straight out from a photoshoot, and at the memory that Armie had once been inside him, had once pinned him down and kissed him, held him, moved against him while telling him that he loved him, that he adored him, Timmy wanted to either break down sobbing, or reminisce and re-live all of Armie’s caresses, strokes and praises by closing his eyes and by touching himself gently, like he so needed to be touched, or maybe, he would have to do both at the same time. 

 

*

 

Armie and Elizabeth’s friends arrived at six and thankfully, Timmy had had just enough time to take a cold shower and rest his head. He felt remarkably better, although the idea of socialising with couples who almost all had kids or kids on the way, and who were all significantly older than him, made him feel slightly nervous. As the first guests had arrived and Harper and Ford had been put in their playroom, inviting all other children to join them in there, one of Elizabeth’s friends who had brought her young daughter to the dinner party took one look at Timmy and made a comment on his youthful face, after which she joked that perhaps he preferred to join the young ones upstairs. 

Timmy hadn’t taken offense, of course, but it had been enough to remind him that he was the odd one out. Out of all the couples, he only recognised a few faces. Liz was eager to introduce him to everyone and though they were all nice and seemed to take an interest in him, Timmy had to swallow a lump in his throat as he hoped to God that none of them knew him from any of the newspapers. 

“Lovely to meet you, Timmy,” said one of Liz’s pregnant friends who was rubbing her belly as she extended her hand for him to shake, “may I ask what happened to your face? Are you okay?” 

Timmy felt like a huge idiot for almost having forgotten about his bruises. He certainly hadn’t remembered to come up with a good cover story, either, and consequently, his mouth hung slightly open as he didn’t know what to say.

“Er – oh, I – uh, I’m fine,” he drawled eventually, forcing a smile, though his reaction had the woman looking even more worried, “it’s nothing to worry about. I’ve been… doing some boxing,” he lied, and at the stress of having to improvise, he grew flustered and tense. “I guess I forgot to duck a couple of times.”

“He’s obviously still learning,” someone said suddenly, butting in. Before Timmy had a chance to spin around, he felt a hand clutching his shoulder, filling him with reassurance. He knew that voice – that laughter. “I bet you don’t look half as bad as the other guy, though,” Nick added with a smirk as he introduced himself. 

Timmy couldn’t help himself. Nick was the friendliest face in the crowd so far, so he broke into a smile and embraced the man who’d just saved him from embarrassing himself further. 

“Hey, man! It’s good to see you,” Timmy uttered truthfully, feeling unbelievably relieved to have found someone that he could actually talk to. Armie had already surrounded himself with his friends, these married men who were all fathers like himself, slowly nearing their mid-thirties, and as they had all gathered outside to admire the garden, Timmy had been left feeling slightly alone. “I didn’t even know that you were coming,” he added with joy, smiling at Nick again.

“Of course I came,” Nick told him, reciprocating the hug, “I’m in charge of the wine – Armie’s dinner party would be doomed without me.” 

The pregnant friend of Liz’s who had been trying to small talk with Timmy slowly turned around and walked out of the conversation. She sensed that the two men had some catching up to do that she wasn’t required to hang around for. As soon as she had left them alone, Nick broke apart from Timmy in order to give the younger man a serious look.

“Boxing, huh? Is that really the story you’re going to go with?”

“You know?” 

“Of course I know. Armie told me what happened to you as soon as he decided to pick up your stuff. He and I were going to go to the bastard’s house and give him a taste of his own medicine, but as it turns out, Armie already beat him up pretty bad,” Nick explained, referring to Travis. He paused and let his eyes scan over Timmy’s face carefully. “Does it hurt? I’m guessing you’ve had a pretty rough time.” 

Timmy found himself shrugging, trying to give the other man the impression that it wasn’t a big deal.

“I’m on painkillers,” he said as lightly as his voice would allow him to, “it’s fine now. I hardly feel anything.” 

“The medicine will wear off, though,” Nick remarked with worry, “I hope this shit heals quickly.” He then raised his hand and let it hover carefully before the younger man’s face. “Can I…”

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” Timmy told him, giving him permission.

Nick touched at his once-swollen cheek, prodding the dark bruises as gingerly as it was humanly possible, making sure not to cause Timmy any pain. Nick was being so careful and protective of him; suddenly, Timmy thought that he might as well be an older brother as his mannerisms reminded him of Pauline and her protectiveness towards him whenever he’d been in trouble growing up. 

In other words, Timmy realised that he felt completely safe and looked after by the dark-haired man.

“Damn, that looks sore,” Nick commented as he pulled a sympathetic face, “good news is that you shouldn’t be left with any scars. Your baby skin shall remain smooth and unmarked,” he taunted him.

“Oh, shut up,” Timmy laughed, “I don’t have baby skin. I’ve been shaving since I was fifteen.” 

“Yeah, right,” Nick laughed even louder, poking him with his elbow, “anyway, just cause you‘re hairy doesn’t mean you don’t have baby skin. Have you ever even had a pimple?”

“Of course I have,” Timmy said, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t believe you,” Nick said with a shake of his head. “Anyway, man – I thought you should know that I’ve been meaning to visit, to see how you were holding up. But Armie told me you probably weren’t in the mood to see anyone.”

“For the first couple of days, yeah, he was probably right about that,” Timmy confessed, smiling faintly. “I guess I’ve had a lot on my mind. Everything has sort of been turned upside down in my life.” 

“I get it. You haven’t been given a very easy start here in L.A.,” Nick agreed. “I’m so sorry, Timmy. If there’s anything I can do…”

“No, no – really, I’m better now,” Timmy assured him, “Armie and Liz have taken such good care of me. You don’t need to worry.”

Nick’s hand went back to touching the smaller man’s shoulder, not only as a comfort or a promise to be there for him, but perhaps as a replacement for what words could not adequately convey. Nick wasn’t necessarily the type to be openly emotional, or to express himself eloquently, however, when it came to good friends and people he cared about, he strived to up his game. He wanted Timmy to know that, despite the banter, he could always count on his support.

Maybe it was just coincidental timing. Or maybe it was Nick’s touching him. But for some reason, Armie chose this exact moment to resurface and to re-approach Timmy, despite having seemed so busy with his friends. And so, the blond man entered the kitchen and as he sought out Timmy somewhat purposefully, he walked in to find his ex-lover sharing a heartfelt moment with his best friend. 

“Is everything okay here?”

Timmy jerked and felt completely startled as Armie stepped in between them, breaking them apart either intentionally or unintentionally, and soon Armie was towering over him so that he couldn’t even see Nick behind those broad shoulders, behind that strong, endlessly tall back. Once again, Armie cancelled out his surroundings and he was all that Timmy could see. Armie was wearing a light-blue shirt and he had left way too many of the top buttons open, once again exposing some of that skin that had caused Timmy to fall comatose earlier. Why did he have to be so striking, so painfully, so annoyingly and infuriatingly, so God damn handsome? It wasn’t fair.

Armie gave Nick a big smile and opened up his arms for him as he hadn’t said hello to his friend yet, but Nick paused at the look on Timmy’s face. The kid had been perfectly fine while Armie was gone, but now that the blond man had joined them, Timmy was beginning to look like he couldn’t even breathe.

His eyes were practically glued to Armie. He looked like he had fallen into a trance, under a spell, and Nick couldn’t help but to feel alarmed. Was this really how much power Armie continued to hold over Timmy? 

“Hey, man,” Nick forced a smile as he pulled Armie in for a lazy hug. “Didn’t see you there.” 

Armie frowned, sensing some sort of tension. 

“Are you guys okay?” He asked again, turning around to stare at Timmy who looked flushed and self-conscious. “What were you talking about?” 

“Actually,” Nick started, but Timmy talked over him:

“It’s nothing,” smiled the young man, shrugging blithely, “one of Liz’s friends asked me about the bruises, is all.” 

“Yes. And apparently Timmy thought it would be a clever cover up story if he told people that he got injured while boxing,” Nick explained whilst sending another smile Timmy’s way, if only to tease him. He was still too concerned with the way that Timmy had reacted to Armie’s presence to actually laugh, however.

“Oh, fuck,” Armie uttered. “I’ve been telling people that you fell down the stairs!” He ran a hand through his hair nervously as he let his gaze shift between Timmy and Nick. “I fuckin’ hope Liz’s friends aren’t prone to gossip. I would hate for them to exchange stories.” 

The whole thing began to seem ridiculous and comical at the same time. Even though Timmy dreaded the idea of someone bringing up his banged-up face during dinner, he could, after all, not bring himself to panic. Armie had his back, and so did Nick. Surely they were all adults, and they should all be able to wine and dine peacefully without having to inform everyone about Travis’s abuse. 

“Anyway,” Nick uttered in order to change the subject, “I’ve still got some bottles of wine in the car. Armie, can you give me a hand carrying them in?” 

Armie figured immediately that Nick was looking for an excuse to talk to him privately. As soon as the two of them stepped outside together and left Timmy to fend for himself, he crossed his arms over his chest and gave Nick a subtle look.

“What’s up? I can tell that something is bothering you.”

Nick inhaled slowly as he and Armie studied each other silently.

“I don’t know, man,” he started, gesturing with his hands, “I just can’t help but to feel that, maybe, this isn’t such a good idea.”

“This?” Armie repeated. “What do you mean, this?”

“This,” Nick said, stressing the word, “your current situation. Timmy staying with you and Liz. You and Liz looking after him.”

“Wait – what else were we supposed to do?” Armie interrupted him in a lowered voice. “Nick, he needs us!”

“He needs for everything to go back to normal,” Nick corrected him. “This – him living here – isn’t normal.”

“Where else is he supposed to live?” Armie spat. “He’s traumatized from the attack – he’s all alone. He’s got no money, no place to go…”

“I know that,” Nick sighed. “But you should have let him stay at my place instead, or anywhere else. He’s not ready to be around you, Armie, I can see it on his face. He’s confused. You’re messing with his head.”

“I am not!” Armie protested with a huff. “I’ve been very clear about my intensions with him. He knows we’re over and that I’m staying with Liz. I haven’t been giving him any false expectations.”

“Maybe not,” Nick retorted, “but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to be around you. Don’t you get it? He’s still pining over you. He’s too young to know what’s good for him. He’s in a vulnerable position, Armie. I think you’re causing him to relapse rather than to move on.” 

Armie’s mouth fell open, but he felt speechless. 

“What exactly are you accusing me of? Leading him on?” He eyed Nick with indignation. “You’ve been here for what, twenty minutes? You don’t know what’s going on between Timmy and I.” 

“I do know,” Nick contradicted him. “I know because I’ve already watched it all happen once before. He’s not over you, Armie, and as long as you keep him here, he’s not going to get over you.” 

“Nick, please…” Armie found himself groaning tiredly. “Don’t put me on the spot like this. I can’t kick him out and you know it. He needs me.”

“He needs someone,” Nick agreed, “but that someone doesn’t have to be you.” 

Armie held his tongue, torn between blurting out a million things all at once and simply keeping silent. He thought to himself that Nick was both right and wrong at the same time, but then again, so was he. It was all so complicated, so messy. If Nick was suggesting a quick solution to his problem, he knew that he would be simplifying matters.

“Maybe it’s not just that he needs me,” Armie admitted finally, trying hard to make sense of everything. “Maybe I need him, too. As my friend, I mean.” 

Nick shook his head disapprovingly. 

“You crossed that line a long time ago,” he reminded him. “You’re being selfish, Armie.”

‘Wrong,’ Armie thought. ‘I’ve been selfish all along. Perhaps I’ve just gotten used to it.’ 

 

*

 

Timmy enjoyed the dinner party, although he also felt bored at times as the evening dragged on. Though people tried to include him every once in a while, most of the conversation didn’t feel relevant to him. He didn’t own a house, didn’t have a job, didn’t have kids, nor did he want any – he wasn’t married, or engaged. He didn’t even have a partner. He was too young to share the same interests as Armie’s friends and he was too humble to simply start talking about himself. Since Armie and Elizabeth had both advised him not to drink, he kept passing on the wine that Nick had brought, which meant that, in the end, everyone was happy and slightly tipsy except for him.

Perhaps Liz’s friend had been right. Perhaps he did belong in the playroom with all the kids. He wondered what all the adults thought about his presence at the table, about him having moved in with Armie and Elizabeth in the first place. He wondered what Armie had told them all. Maybe some of them assumed him to be a distant cousin who just happened to be visiting. Or maybe they thought him to be a full-time nanny that they had hired for Harper and Ford. A playmate. A mere babysitter who didn’t appear to have anywhere else to be, or anything better to do. 

While the adults raised their glasses and cheered and sipped their wine for the tenth time since the first course, Timmy forced a smile and swallowed some of the lemonade that Liz had put out for him. He was beginning to space out again, barely even listening to whatever story Liz’s pregnant friend was telling this time. 

He blinked and looked over at Armie who was sat at the very end of the table, far away from him. He was laughing at something someone had said, but Timmy had missed the joke completely. By Armie’s side, Liz was practically glowing. She was such a great hostess. People kept complimenting her food, her home, her children, her dress, her make-up. Everyone loved her. How could they not?

Timmy looked down at his hands, studying his skinny, boyish fingers as he wondered how he could ever have been so foolish as to imagine himself taking Liz’s seat, next to Armie. There was a time when he had wanted more than anything for him and Armie to be the real thing, to be two people in love with one another, even though he never meant to push Liz out of the picture. Though it made him want to laugh, he wondered what being married to Armie was like. 

He imagined being the one cooking Armie’s meals, ironing his clothes, raising his children. He imagined being the hostess to Armie’s friends and family whenever they threw a party together. He imagined kissing Armie’s lips, being owned by him, wearing his ring on his finger, and being felt up by his large hands for everyone to see, like Armie would sometimes feel Liz up in public if he’d had enough to drink.

Somehow he knew that he would never have been able to match everything that Liz had given Armie, and continued to give him. He felt so young and clueless. What could he even contribute with? What could anyone possibly want from him, or desire in him? 

“Are you okay?” Nick whispered as he leaned in, causing Timmy to snap out of his trail of thoughts. Timmy had felt lucky when Nick had chosen the seat next to him because despite everything, Nick was still paying attention to him even when he wasn’t talking, or laughing, or drinking. “A penny for your thoughts, buddy.”

At this, Timmy couldn’t help but the smirk at the older man.

“You don’t want to know what I’m thinking,” he warned him.

“Try me.”

Timmy looked over his shoulder subtly, wondering if anyone might be eavesdropping on them.

“I was just thinking that…”

“That what?” Nick pressed on.

“…that this dinner is really boring,” Timmy confessed, causing Nick to fall silent. 

He immediately worried that he’d crossed the line, that he had been too direct, too disrespectful and ungrateful, but Nick was suddenly sputtering with laughter.

“See this is what I like about you,” Nick cackled, covering his mouth with his hand when he feared that he couldn’t control himself. He put his wine glass down out of fear of spilling its content. “Always keeping it real. Worth the damn penny,” he wheezed, slapping Timmy’s back. 

Timmy’s face had gone bright red as he felt mortified with himself. 

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he lamented, though he couldn’t contain a small chuckle. “It was rude of me.”

“It’s the truth,” Nick sniggered, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Hey, I can’t blame you. Do you want to know what I’m thinking?”

“Sure.”

“I’m thinking that it must be really boring for you living with an older, married couple and their two kids.”

Nick had suddenly stopped laughing and Timmy gave him a curious look. It became evident to him that Nick was serious, but that he hadn’t meant this as a dig at Armie and Liz. Rather, it was an undeniable truth, whether Timmy liked to admit it or not. Nick knew that, though Timmy was taken care of, this could never be his home. He needed a place of his own. He needed his independence, his youth, his life back. 

Timmy realised he didn’t know what to say to this. 

“I’ll take boring over lonely,” he replied almost without thinking, but he meant it. 

Life in New York had been so horrible. He had exposed himself to strangers every day without being able to get them to back off and it had caused him to distrust most people he met. In other words, he thought he could have made it better by isolating himself. He had been wrong. 

Nick nodded. He seemed oddly understanding, though Timmy thought that he would have been uncomfortable talking about this.

“Maybe it’s time that you get out of the house for a little bit,” Nick suggested. “Maybe you would like to live your own life for a change.”

“What are you saying?”

Timmy eyed the dark-haired man questioningly, without following at all.

Nick smiled at his innocence.

“I’m saying,” he told him grinningly, “how about I take you out for a drink later? I think Armie and Liz have parented you enough for one night. You need to get loose and have some fun.”


	9. Jack and Coke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick takes Timmy out for the night, despite Armie's objections.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> Guys, I'm so sorry for taking forever to update. This chapter is longer than I had expected it to be and if I'm honest, I've had a minor writer's block for the past week. I'm so glad to have overcome it - once again, I thank everyone for their support and for those wonderful comments <3 
> 
> I will try to respond to comments as soon as I can :))

Timmy and Nick left the dinner party together later in the evening. They had patiently been waiting for one of the other guests – anyone – to make the first move and decide that it was getting late, that they had to get home and get their kids to bed, that it had been a lovely evening, but that they had to cut it short because it had been forever since they were out after ten o’clock. And after that first disruption, it seemed much easier to copy this move and to stand up and announce that they, too, should be going before it got too late, without having to feel unnecessarily rude about it.

“Going?” Armie uttered disbelievingly when Nick and Timmy said goodbye to the party and followed each other back to the hall. When Liz’s friend had made her departure as the first one, he hadn’t been bothered, but now he left the table in order to follow after them. “Are you both leaving? Where are you going?” 

Armie’s gaze shifted between Timmy and Nick. It seemed that the surprise of this development was slowly knocking his confidence. Nick was already putting on his coat as a way of showing his persistence, or perhaps to let Armie know that he wasn’t going to talk them out of their plans. 

“Timmy and I are going out for a bit. I haven’t seen him in a while, so it would be nice to catch up,” Nick told his best friend as he offered Armie a poised smile, perhaps to signal that it was okay, that he didn’t need to worry or feel betrayed by this, “don’t worry, I’ve called us a cab. I know I’ve had too much wine to drive.” 

“Drive?” Armie repeated without understanding at all. “Wait, are you going in to town? Where are you taking him, Nick?” 

‘Where are you taking him?’

He was talking like Timmy wasn’t even in the room. Timmy was beginning to feel like a child in the way that Armie clearly didn’t expect him to be involved in any of the decision-making. Perhaps he assumed that Nick had called all the shots and that Timmy was merely following him, somewhat blindly. He suddenly longed to let Armie know that this was his choice, too. That he was going with Nick because he had chosen his moment to take action, and not because he had been compliantly waiting for someone older and wiser to tell him when he was ready to leave the house for the first time since the incident. 

“I’ve asked Nick to show me where all the good bars are here in L.A.,” Timmy heard himself boasting as though to make Armie jealous for not leaving that to him, for choosing the company of his best friend in order to have a good time. “He’s kindly offered to show me around.”

Nick eyed Timmy with a smirk and cocked an eyebrow as though to say, ‘Wow – enjoying this much, are we?’ 

Armie looked flabbergasted.

“Timmy, your head,” objected the blond man, sounding painfully confused. 

It was almost enough to cause Timmy to regret the smugness in his own voice. Almost. 

“My head is fine,” he reminded Armie. “Dr Rueben cleared me, remember?” 

“You shouldn’t be drinking,” Armie maintained and this time, he glanced at Nick as though he was silently asking him to come to his senses and back him up. “You’re on medication, Timmy.” 

“I’m not trying to get him drunk, Arms,” Nick told Armie firmly as he patted the shoulder of the taller man, “we’re just going out to catch up and have a talk. He’s old enough to know what he’s doing, anyway. Trust him to make his own decisions, eh?” 

Nick was chuckling. Armie was tensing up. Timmy realised that he didn’t want him to go, but before he could defy Armie’s egotism, Timmy was distracted by the sound of Liz’s voice. She was walking down the stairs and caught them just as they were about to leave. It looked like she had returned from checking up on the kids. 

“So you guys are about to go?” She asked them, smiling brightly as she joined them by the front door. “Nick, will you make sure that Timmy gets home safe? Timmy, you have a key to the house, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Liz, I’ll be fine,” the brunette assured her, feeling grateful.

Armie, on the other hand, felt disappointed to see that Liz had no reservations about their arrangements whatsoever. 

“Nick is taking him to a bar apparently,” Armie told his wife without bothering to mask his disapproval. “Timmy reckons he can handle it.”

Liz gave her husband a look. She knew what he was trying to do.

“And I’m sure that he can,” she told him as she refused to humour his neurotic behaviour. “Have fun, you guys. Oh, and Timmy? Would you mind saying goodnight to Harper before you leave? I just put her to bed and she was asking for you.” 

Liz flashed them all another smile as she turned around and went back to join her guests. 

“I’ll be right back,” Timmy said to Nick, though for some reason, his eyes kept returning to Armie’s face as he studied the concern playing out across the older man’s features. 

“Take your time,” Nick grinned, feeling amused as Timmy hurried upstairs in order to see Armie’s daughter before she fell asleep. “I see that you’re not the only one who enjoys having him here,” he then said to Armie – not to offend, or condemn, and especially not just for the sake of cracking another joke at Armie’s expense. It was simply an observation. 

Armie, however, would inevitably read too much into that. 

“Maybe I should go with you guys,” Armie suggested suddenly, but Nick was already shaking his head.

“You need to stay here with your guests, buddy,” he reminded the blue-eyed idiot, though he couldn’t help but to feel bad. He had never before hurt Armie’s feelings intentionally, but this time, he just couldn’t allow him to join in. “It’s okay. We’re not doing this to gang up on you. I just want him to have a little bit of fun.”

“Fun?” Armie sounded insulted. “You’re saying that this is just about him having fun?” 

“Oh come on, Armie. The kid has been bored out of his mind all week. And tonight has been no exception,” Nick told him straight. “He doesn’t know any of the people sitting at your table. He has nothing in common with you and Liz’s friends. He’s young. He needs stimulation. I know that you’ve been trying to protect him after he got injured-“

“Attacked,” Armie corrected him spitefully, “he was attacked, Nick.”

“I know – okay? I know.” Nick rubbed at his forehead as he tried to finish the point that he was trying to make. “But look – things are never going to go back to normal for him if he stays here, locked up in your house. He needs to go out and mingle with people and learn not to be afraid. He won’t be in danger, you know. If anything were to happen, I’d be there with him.”

Armie still wasn’t satisfied with this.

“Look, I would feel a lot better if I was there,” Armie confessed somewhat pleadingly, like he was once again asking Nick to understand, to bear with him. “I still haven’t forgiven myself for leaving him alone with Travis, so if anything like that happened again-“

“First of all, you need to stop pretending that you’re responsible for him,” Nick cut him off, pressing a firm hand against Armie’s shoulder. “You’re Timmy’s friend. Not his parent, not his partner or boyfriend or whatever…”

“Nick!”

“No! You need to hear it. Listen, man, I’m so glad that you and Liz have worked things out and that you’ve decided to put her first and be faithful to her. I mean, she’s the mother of your children for crying out loud, she should have been your number one all along.”

“Nick, please…”

“But when you chose to stay with Liz, you also chose to let Timmy go. So now, you owe it to him to set him free and stop meddling and stop trying to make all his decisions for him. You’re way too involved for someone who’s only a friend, Armie. You need to back off and realise that you can’t have it both ways.” 

Armie removed himself from Nick, causing his hand to slide off him. His lips were pressed together tightly as he frowned, looking much too vexed to be calmed down.

“When you say that I’m too involved in his life, Nick,” Armie hissed, letting his own insecurity and stupidity show its ugly face yet again in case Nick missed it the first time around, “you’re actually saying that I should step back so that you can jump right in and take my place. Am I right?” 

Nick kept his eyes on Armie quietly. Armie was looking back at him hollowly, waiting to see if Nick was going to take the bait and hit back at him, or perhaps affront him. Anything to shift blame and convince himself that he was right to be suspicious, right to feel deceived. 

Nick wouldn’t even give him the satisfaction.

“I know that you are probably drunk right now, so I’m going to pretend you never said that,” Nick spoke slowly and completely without malice. “Thanks for tonight, Armie. Tell Timmy I’m waiting for him outside.” 

When Timmy returned to the hall only moments later, Armie was still stood by the door, looking like he didn’t know where else to go, what else to do. 

“Where’s Nick?” Uttered the brunette, feeling alarmed by the displeasure that Armie now sported almost carelessly. “Armie? Are you okay?”

“He’s waiting for you outside,” Armie murmured defeatedly. “I think your cab has arrived.”

Timmy hesitated. Armie was without a doubt trying to make things difficult for him, but nevertheless, he was still finding it hard to just leave.

“Armie, are you okay?” He asked him again, inching closer towards the door.

Armie was blocking it. 

“Here,” Armie then spoke, pulling something out from his pocket after which he tried to push it into Timmy’s hand, “here’s fifty bucks. I know you don’t have any money and I would rather that your drinks came from me than from out of Nick’s wallet.”

Timmy thoroughly looked like he had just been slapped in the face. 

“God, you’re an ass sometimes.”

Timmy ignored the money and pushed his way past Armie somewhat aggressively, forcing the door open, not caring if it hit Armie in the back.

 

*

 

In the taxi, Nick sensed Timmy’s disgruntlement and knew that Armie was to blame for it. Nevertheless, he tried to ease his mood by being his usual bubbly self and Timmy appreciated the effort. Though he couldn’t keep himself from smiling at Nick, he found himself in deep thought as he recalled some of the past instances in which Armie, completely by habit, had taken charge and made sure to have everything his way. In a moment of silence, Timmy looked out through the window from the car and called to mind Armie’s brash confidence and assertiveness. How, from day one, Timmy had loved him for it and hated it all at the same time…

“I’m so close,” Armie had told him once when their lovemaking had been made customary, habitual and highly addictive, “you feel so good.” 

As Armie had kissed his face and thrust into him repeatedly, Timmy had responded by crawling out from underneath his weight and moving himself on top of the older man until he was bouncing in his lap, rocking his hips teasingly, promising Armie to take him all the way. Armie was penetrating him to the hilt and Timmy had felt so full that it had almost hurt, but he had known that he could be bendy, that he could move tirelessly and elegantly for his lover, if only to offer him full satisfaction.

Only, Armie hadn’t let him demonstrate his talent.

“No – my way is better,” Armie had whispered in a groan, and before Timmy had had the chance to insist that he be part of the fun, Armie had pushed him off him rather selfishly and had mounted Timmy anew, pinning him down. When Timmy had tried to adjust his position once again, Armie’s animalistic instinct had kicked in; the one that caused him to use his size and strength against Timmy in order to win, in order to get what he wanted. And Timmy had been trapped underneath him, moaning helplessly as he took it while Armie fucked him harder, fucked him urgently and victoriously, doing all the work, forcing him to fall submissive.

Of course it had been amazing. Of course Armie had managed to make him convulse and squirm and beg while he had cum so hard, Timmy thought he had felt tears stinging in his eyes.

Armie had loved it. He had loved his own efficiency and skill. He had loved being right and he had loved getting exactly what he wanted, and what he had wanted was to see Timmy lying there, disheveled, sweaty and out of breath from whimpering as he had been left completely at Armie’s mercy. 

Armie loved control. Loved the idea of being stronger, but better, too. When Timmy had claimed to know what he wanted and needed from him, Armie had raised the bar and given him what he thought was far superior to even Timmy’s wildest imagination. 

‘You think you know how you want me to fuck you? Wrong. Let me show you how you really like it, kiddo.’

If Timmy would have ever accused Armie of taking charge for his own pleasure’s sake, however, Armie would have cried with offense. Every time he was in power, he used it to thrill Timmy, to serve him and rouse him in ways that only Armie knew how. There had been no point to his assertiveness if Timmy hadn’t benefitted from it; Armie made this very clear after a couple of tender, prolonged nights. Though Armie wished to take credit for all the hard work, once they had finished and continued to lie in each other’s arms whilst cuddling gently through their exhaustion, Armie’s first question had always been: “Did you enjoy it?”

Obviously, Timmy did. Every time.

“Good. Me too,” Armie would then tell him, probably whilst running a hand through Timmy’s curls, or tracing a finger down to his lips, playing with their shape, “I just want to make you feel good. I want you to be happy.”

Timmy hadn’t been happy, he’d been ecstatic. Head over heels in love. Lying quietly in Armie’s arms had been the purest moment in his entire life. Armie had been his confider, his protector – the dearest person in his life. He had always looked out for him, especially when Timmy had failed to protect himself.

“Let’s chance it,” Timmy had once suggested to Armie one night when it was getting late and they found themselves fooling around in some icky hotel bed, though in their state of drunkenness, they had both forgotten to bring condoms. “Armie, please… I want you so bad.” 

Armie had kissed him deeply and continued to tease him by running his hands all over his body until his nipples were all hard and erect and Timmy couldn’t help but to beg and gag for it. In the end, however, Armie had changed his mind and pulled back. 

“We can’t,” he’d whispered tenderly and regrettably, even ignoring the groan of disappointment coming from Timmy. “You know we can’t! I – I don’t want to put you in that position, baby.”

“In what position?” Timmy had moaned stupidly, though he’d known perfectly well. “Armie, come on. It’s not like you’re taking advantage here…”

“If I knocked you up just because I didn’t happen to have a condom on me, then yeah, Timmy, it would be taking advantage.” Armie had seized Timmy’s hand and had kissed his bony knuckles lovingly and apologetically. “I’m sorry, but you deserve better than to let me play Russian roulette with your body, sweetheart.” 

Timmy had smiled weakly at that.

“I wish my body wasn’t like this,” he had then confessed miserably, uncertain if this was how he truly felt or just the alcohol talking. “I hate that I have to be so careful…”

“What are you talking about?” Armie had uttered, sounding scandalised. “Look at me. Your body is amazing. I’m in awe of its… ability.” When Timmy had kept on pouting, Armie had pulled him into his arms like he was a toddler who needed to be reasoned with. “I’m serious, T. I think you’re absolutely wonderful the way you are.” 

On other occasions, of course, it had been less about Timmy’s body and more about Armie’s. 

There wasn’t an ounce of Armie’s body that Timmy didn’t desire. In all the time he’d known the older man, Timmy had been a hopeless admirer and adorer of Armie’s build. Armie’s strength showed not only in his broad chest, his thigh muscles or in the size of his arms, but in the spark of those deep blue eyes and that confident, bold smile that blinded you and practically dared you not to fall under the spell of this big, beautiful man. 

Most people were drawn to Armie – physically, emotionally, romantically – and Armie fucking knew it. Timmy could tell by the way he basked in the glory of his own size rather than apologizing for it. Being big was never an issue, not when your name was Armand Hammer and you had the face of a Greek god; otherworldly handsome, almost cherub-like. Standing next to someone so tall, so large overall, had filled Timmy with a sense of fascination rather than intimidation. Attracting attention and taking up space seemed like the most natural thing in the world to Armie. Rather than trying to make himself smaller, he would sit down next to you and extend his legs proudly, spreading himself out and making himself comfortable, not caring where your eyes travelled and landed on his body in order to study and to behold and above all, appreciate what they were seeing.

Armie’s self-assurance and effortless buoyancy had made an already gorgeous man ten times more stunning and every now and again, Timmy couldn’t help but to think that, maybe, if he had Armie’s confidence, he could one day have some of his beauty, too. 

Spurred on by lust as he had watched Armie’s naked robustness before him, Timmy had once lost control of himself and jumped on top of the blond man, pinning Armie’s wrists down against the bed as he had been left with a single moment to imagine what it would be like to share his lover’s force. It wasn’t that he envied Armie’s power, it was just that he was so pathetically captivated by it that he desperately longed to feel it in order to understand the extent of it.

It had taken Armie less than a second to overthrow Timmy and to swap their positions and Timmy had bit his lip and held his breath as he had felt Armie overpowering him like the feral, untamed being that he was. It had been the single most intense and erotic second of his life. He had felt Armie’s muscles flexing and bulging underneath his grip and even though Armie flipped them both over so violently that Timmy’s back smacked against the mattress, he had loved the way that Armie had straddled him now and had only needed to use one hand in order to trap both of Timmy’s wrists somewhere above his head. 

Timmy had looked Armie in the eyes calmly as he surrendered himself completely.

Armie had smirked smugly as he’d realised how easily he’d won their tussle.

“I thought you were smarter than to pick a fight with someone much stronger than yourself,” Armie had taunted unknowingly and used his free hand to pull at Timmy’s hair, forcing his head back.

Armie’s thighs had felt massive as they clenched around Timmy’s flanks, keeping him in place.

“Maybe this was exactly what I wanted,” Timmy had replied breathlessly, too turned on to care that he was giving himself away. 

Armie had stilled himself, seemingly taken aback by this. Then he smiled again.

“Try to break free,” he challenged him, bowing down to kiss Timmy’s face. “Come on, baby, give it a shot.”

“I can’t,” Timmy chuckled and kicked his legs lazily without result. “You’re too heavy.” 

“You’re not even trying,” Armie complained, letting Timmy’s remark about him being heavy slide. “Go on. See if you can tackle me again.”

At Armie’s request, Timmy had struggled and thrashed until his limbs ached and he could no longer breathe. It was no use; there was no defeating Armie. He was too glorious, too mighty.

“You think I’m weak, don’t you?” Timmy had croaked eternities later, with Armie still on top of him. “M’not weak. It’s just that you’re so… unbelievably strong.” 

Timmy gulped at his own words, finding himself getting harder and harder underneath the other.

Armie was way too amused by this. Flattered.

“Don’t worry, love, you don’t have to prove yourself to me,” he laughed.

“I can defend myself, you know,” Timmy insisted again.

“Right.”

“No, I can. I’m from Hell’s Kitchen, remember?”

“Oh, right. I forgot what a little street fighter you are,” Armie chuckled as he kissed Timmy’s face again, yet in a condescending manner. He finally let go of Timmy’s hands, though he remained sat on his abdomen.

“That’s right,” Timmy huffed, “I know how to fight. If you thought I would ever shield myself behind you, you’re wrong. I can look out for myself.”

“Sure,” Armie chuckled again, humouring the younger man. “Not to worry, though. Who would ever hurt someone as cute as you?”

 

*

 

“Armie treats me like I’m a child,” Timmy complained as Nick paid the taxi driver and opened the car door to let himself and Timmy out. “He doesn’t think I can look out for myself. Did you hear him? I thought he was actually going to ground me or something.”

Nick eyed Timmy sympathetically and waited until the taxi drove off before he walked up to his younger friend and patted his back.

“Armie is just as confused about your situation as you are,” he reminded Timmy, though he knew this wasn’t helpful whatsoever. “But hey, come on – I took you out so you could forget about all that stuff. Don’t let him get to you, man. This is about what you wanna do.” 

“I wanna get a drink,” Timmy confessed, feeling assured that Nick wouldn’t judge him. Dwelling in the past had left him feeling mournful as to how things had turned out between Armie and himself and he was suddenly eager to move on and live in the moment, with a little help from Nick. “You’re right,” Timmy smiled as he shrugged his shoulders, “I can’t let him hold me back.” 

“That’s more like it!” Nick cheered and wrapped his arm around Timmy firmly. “This way, my friend – I assure you, I know one of the nicest bars in all of L.A. It’s just five minutes from here.” 

Timmy walked with Nick happily, although as they were headed down one of the main streets, they got surrounded by more people. It was an awfully busy place and soon enough, Timmy got the feeling that more than a few heads began to turn around and stare at him, narrowing their eyes, recognising him, whispering his name to who ever they were with, pointing when they thought he wouldn’t notice. 

The attention had him tensing up immediately.

“Nick,” he uttered breathlessly, shrinking underneath Nick’s arm in his attempt to hide from the crowds, “I think people are looking at me.” 

“You do realise you’re a Hollywood movie star, right?” Nick said with a laugh. 

“But…” Timmy voice was close to trembling. “They are staring at me. Like I’m a freak or something.” 

“Timmy, you were nominated for an Oscar for crying out loud. They are probably just staring because they love you.”

“No, they – I think they are laughing at me,” Timmy stammered, but Nick merely shook his head at him.

“You’re being paranoid,” he warned him. “When I’m out with Armie, people stare at him, too. It doesn’t mean anything.” 

“People stare at Armie because he’s a 6’5” tall Adonis,” Timmy sighed. “Even if he wasn’t famous, people would still be ogling him in adoration. Me, on the other hand – I’m being made into a joke.”

Timmy covered his face and hid under Nick’s arm when a guy pulled out his phone and began to film as they walked past another crowd of people. Timmy sped up anxiously and Nick practically had to run in order to keep up with him. 

“Okay, I may not know what it’s like for you and Armie in public, but I do know that running away will only make more people notice you,” Nick told Timmy and pulled at the younger man’s arm, forcing him to slow down. “Just relax, the bar is right around the corner. We’re almost rid of them.”

Or so Nick assumed.

“Timothée! Timothée, over here!”

Timmy was dumb enough to look up only to be blinded by a series of flashlights coming from photographers who had managed to catch up with them, now sticking their cameras in the brunette’s face. 

“Oh my God, it’s him!” Someone shouted, pushing through the crowd. A female voice. “Timothée, over here! Who’s your date? Is this your new lover?”

A male photographer soon recognised Nick’s face.

“It’s Nick Delli Santi! Hey, Timmy – are you trying to get revenge by seducing Armie’s best friend after he dumped your ass?”

Laughter. 

Timmy held his breath, on the verge of panic. This was New York all over again.

“Fuck off,” Nick groaned at one of the photographers, trying to cover one of the camera lenses with his hand as another series of pictures were snapped. “How pathetic are you people?”

Nick tried to steer Timmy away from them all, but Timmy felt frozen. He didn’t know where to put his feet. He was too scared to look up from the ground, he had no idea where he was going or who he was barging into. 

“Timothée!” Another male shouted mockingly. “What’s with all the bruises, darling? What happened to your face?” 

“Did someone beat you up?” The female joined in, though she sounded slightly more like she cared. “Can we get a close-up of your face?” 

“What the fuck do you think?” Nick snorted at her while Timmy ducked and hid behind his curls, feeling absolutely mortified. “Back the fuck off!” 

Before they could avoid any more encounters, a male photographer jumped in front of them, causing Timmy to startle. He squatted down before them and angled his camera skillfully in order to snap a picture that clearly showed off a black-and-blue jawline, even as Timmy hid his face behind his hands. His attempt to guard himself fell short and the photographer gloated meanly:

“What’s the matter, darling? Did Armie Hammer’s wife beat you up for fucking her husband?” 

Nick suddenly kicked the camera out of the bastard’s hands, sending it flying across the pavement until the glass lens shattered against hard concrete. 

“Hey – asshole!” The man cursed at Nick, looking perfectly astonished.

“Now, let me tell you something, douchebag,” Nick retorted angrily, “you think Timmy has got a single enemy in this world? Wrong! People love him. He’s only a bit roughed up from beating the shit out of the last God damn paparazzo who harassed him! If you think his bruises are bad, you should see the other guy! Now back the fuck off before you’re next!” 

Amazingly, that did it. Nick pulled Timmy close to him and managed to dodge the next photographer coming towards them. Hurriedly, Nick steered them both in the direction of a small side street. Before Timmy knew where he was, Nick had opened a door for him and led him inside somewhere. A couple of photographers had tried to follow after them, but the doormen had denied them access, realising what their agenda was. 

Timmy finally gathered the courage to look up from his feet. They had entered a bar – a rather crowded one, actually, but already he felt relieved to have escaped the streets. Though a few people looked up from their drinks as he and Nick entered the venue, everyone kept quiet and kept from bothering them. 

“This wasn’t the place that I was going for, but it was the closest bar I could spot, so I figured it would have to do for now,” Nick explained as he smiled at Timmy sheepishly. “Fucking hell, that escalated quickly, huh? Are you okay?”

Timmy felt his lips widening into a smile.

“Yeah,” he sighed. He was okay. Nick had stood up for him. For once, he hadn’t had to go through a minor media storm on his own and that had felt good. “Wow. Thanks for doing that,” he uttered with amazement, “I can’t believe you kicked that guy’s camera!”

Suddenly, Timmy found himself giggling.

“I’m not going to get you in trouble, am I?” Nick cringed. “Fuck. I can’t believe I told everyone that you’ve beaten up a paparazzo…”

“I know,” Timmy sputtered, laughing sincerely, “how on earth did you come up with that?”

“Christ – T, I’m really sorry. Tomorrow’s front pages are going to be some newspaper calling you a violent thug.” Nick shook his head and pulled an anguished face. “Not exactly the reputation I was hoping you’d get…”

“Are you kidding me?” Timmy cackled as he bent over and held a hand to his stomach. “I’d love to be known as a violent thug! I’m sick of being the slut. I need a new identity for myself.” 

“That is, if they even believe that Sweet Tea could ever bring himself to harm anyone,” Nick taunted as he clasped the younger man’s shoulder.

“What do you mean?” Timmy chuckled, pushing Nick away. “I can fight! I’m from Hell’s Kitchen, I-“

A déjà vu of himself telling Armie the exact same thing flashed before his eyes, causing the smile to erase itself from his lips, leaving him to pause as a small shiver ran through his body. There it was again. Him. Armie. On top of one another, imitating two wrestlers. Armie straddling his waist. Armie pinning his hands down. Armie winning. 

“Timmy? You okay, buddy?” Nick brushed the hair away from Timmy’s face, looking the smaller man in the eyes. 

Timmy took a deep breath and tore himself away from the memories. He looked back at Nick, reminding himself to be in the moment, to be with Nick and not Armie.

“Sorry – I really need a drink,” he grinned. 

Anything to keep on laughing.

 

*

 

Half an hour later.

“Jack and coke,” Nick smiled as he and Timmy ordered their second round, “I often find that they are my best friends in the world after a long day.” 

“Thanks for not talking me out of it,” Timmy hummed as he took a long sip from his drink, “Armie would have told me I couldn’t handle it if he was here right now.” 

“Feeling any better?” 

“Yeah. But only because the alcohol has started to kick in.” 

Nick studied Timmy quietly for a moment. It was clear that the young man had been feeling anxious and overwhelmed and that he was still trying to calm down after suffering a minor panic attack from getting surrounded in the street. Nick then took a look around him. Even though they had found a table in a rather remote corner of the bar, people were still glancing their way, looking like they were trying to either eavesdrop on their conversation or snap pictures of Timmy in secret.

He suddenly realised something. 

“This is how people treat you anywhere you go, isn’t it?” Nick’s voice was brimming with concern.

“Hm?” Timmy put down his glass.

“This is why you left New York,” Nick continued. “You were getting harassed. You are still getting harassed.” Nick observed Timmy as he tensed up and he then knew it was true. “Tell me something. Are they always this horrible to you? The photographers, I mean.” 

For some reason, the question left Timmy feeling dazzled. This was the response he’d longed to receive from Armie all long: The seriousness, the attention and concern, the acknowledging of the truth, and of the fact that he knew, even when Armie pretended not to know what was going on every time Timmy ventured out in public. 

Instead, it was Nick it all came from. When Timmy couldn’t think of a single appropriate thing to say, Nick pressed on:

“Timmy, this is bad. I mean – I knew that you’ve been making headlines quite a few times, but I didn’t realise that people would actually abuse you in the street. Are the photographers always this rude to you?” 

Timmy feigned a small smile, though not to appease the other.

“It’s not just the photographers, Nick. It’s everyone. It’s like the whole world hates me after Armie and I were… caught. And I don’t even blame them. What I put Liz through is disgusting.”

“Hey, buddy – what those people are putting you through is a lot worse and totally uncalled for. I mean, they don’t even know the full story for fuck’s sake! Don’t think for a moment that you actually deserve this – this witch-hunt.” 

Nick sounded upset. Timmy wished he knew how to cast light on the situation instead of making everything worse.

“It’s okay,” he replied, simply because it felt like the kind of thing he ought to say. “I’m sure it will blow over sooner or later.”

Nick shook his head. It wasn’t good enough. Of course it wasn’t. 

“Does Armie know what you’ve been going through? Does he know what people are shouting at you?”

Timmy shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s not like I haven’t told him. It’s just…” 

“What?”

“I think he pretends not to know. I think maybe deep down he thinks that I deserve the punishment. I mean, his punishment was seeing Liz get hurt and almost losing her, too, I guess. Maybe he blames me for nearly causing him to throw it all away. Or maybe he’s bitter that he had more at stake than I did, so in a sense, it’s only fair that my reputation got trashed, because that was the only thing I had to lose.” 

This was such a lie. He had lost a hell of a lot more than just that. He had lost all sense of safety. He had lost his career, most of his friends. But worst of all, he had lost his heart. He had lost Armie. In that way, he was probably more bereaved than Armie had ever been. 

“Timmy,” Nick uttered sadly, “I think you’re forgetting that Armie still cares for you deeply. He would never wish for you to get hurt, or punished as you say. He wants you to be happy, I know he does.” 

“Then why did I not hear from him in over a year?” Timmy snorted, resting his head in both hands. “Why did he let me take the blame for the whole thing? Why did he force me out of my room and make me move in with him? He keeps reminding me that he doesn’t love me, yet he keeps me around like it isn’t already killing me every time I see him. I’m with him, but not really with him. Do you know what I mean? He’s not being himself around me. The real Armie that I used to know keeps shutting me out. It’s – it’s driving me crazy.” 

Timmy bit his tongue and forced himself to stop. The rum was causing him to talk almost completely without a filter and yet again, he had to remind himself that Nick wasn’t just his friend, but the best friend of Armie and Elizabeth. He had known the couple for way longer. Obviously, his loyalty had to be with them.

“I’m sorry,” Timmy blurted out as he became aware of his slip-up, “Armie is your friend. I really shouldn’t try to put you in the middle.”

“I’m your friend too,” Nick said calmly, without any trace of upset. “Did you expect me to take Armie’s side and defend him? I’m not that heartless, you know.”

“But… He’s your best friend.” 

“Armie has got enough going for him already. He doesn’t need me to stand up for him. He isn’t on his own like you may be.” Nick observed Timmy’s distress as the younger man began to fidget and blush through his wave of self-consciousness. “In other words, Timmy; if I don’t stand up for you, who would? You’re alone here in L.A. Armie, on the other hand, is surrounded by friends.” 

Timmy had to swallow a lump in his throat. Nick was right, this was his reality. The entire world had gone Team Armie and Nick was the only person who refused to go with the flow.

“Thanks, Nick. I mean, really.”

Timmy’s voice had gone wobbly and thin. He reached for his glass and drank urgently as he felt his entire mouth drying up. He hated how overridden with emotion he was.

“Timmy. Look at me. I didn’t mean it like that. Of course you’re not alone,” Nick suddenly felt horrible. He hadn’t meant for Timmy to feel belittled or eclipsed by Armie; their relationship was never about rivalry, but at the very idea that if it was, Timmy would have come out as the loser, Nick wanted to curse himself for putting those images into the young man's head. “Like I said, you have me. Good old Nick is looking out for you, don’t forget. Good old Nick is going to buy us another round. This time let’s not bother with the coke, eh?”

Nick patted Timmy’s arm. Timmy forced himself to laugh faintly. 

“Nick, I – I’m not really in a position to pay you back. You know that, right?”

“Fucking hell, Armie has really done a number on you, hasn’t he? Even if you had the money on you, T, I wouldn’t want it, so stop putting yourself down like that.”

Nick had basically promised Armie that tonight wouldn’t be about getting Timmy drunk, but hell, if it was the only way to get the kid to relax and cheer up for a bit, Nick reckoned it would be worth it. Timmy needed to erase the past few weeks from his memory and Nick was there to make that happen. 

After another two rounds, Timmy had finally forgotten self-consciousness. He had long forgotten about the people sitting at the adjacent tables and he could no longer care if he was being watched. Nick had miraculously helped him to laugh and if only for a moment, to not give a damn.

“You know what you need?” Nick slurred eventually when he, too, was under the influence and felt himself growing candid and straightforward. “You need to be in control again. You need to take charge.” 

“Take charge?” Timmy slurred back, feeling confused. 

“Yeah! Take charge of yourself – your life, man!”

“I can’t! I’m – I’m not like Armie…”

“Yes, you can. The only person who should make decisions for you, is you.” Nick reached for Timmy’s hand and squeezed it hard. “You need to stop listening to what everyone else is telling you. Stop listening to Armie. He thinks he knows better than you, right? Prove him wrong. Be in control, buddy. I know you can do it.” 

Timmy cracked up at that. 

“Nick, I don’t know how…”

“Look – if you’re sick of Armie and his rules, do you know what you should do? You should just go on and move out of there. Get your own place. Be your own person. You’re not a child anymore.” 

“But it’s – it’s not that simple. I’ve pretty much sabotaged my own career.”

“Then get a job. Any job. Like normal people do,” Nick encouraged him, “it doesn’t matter what you do. It would be worth your freedom, wouldn’t it?”

“Wait, are you telling me this because you’re drunk or because you mean it?”

“I’m telling you this because it breaks my heart to see you like this, Timothée. You and Armie both. You’re – you’re hurting each other. Not in-intentionally,” Nick hiccupped, “but because you can’t help it… Armie thinks he’s protecting you, but he’s preventing you from going out there and starting over. You could meet new people, Timmy… You’re too young – too good – to wait for Armie to figure out what exactly he wants from you. Make up your mind for him. Go your own way… You are smart and… and independent.” 

Timmy felt stunned. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had shown such faith in him.

“But – that’s exactly what I’m not,” Timmy argued sadly. “If I was smart and independent, I would never have gotten myself into this mess in the first place.”

“Timmy, listen to me – this mess isn’t your fault. You deserve so much better. You know that, right?”

“Nick…”

“You’re, like, the kindest person in the world. You wouldn’t even hurt a fly. It pisses me off that people treat you like this…” 

“Nick, come on. It’s not like I’m completely innocent. After all, I did have an affair with a married man…”

“Stop it,” Nick shushed him, gripping Timmy’s jaw with his hand, gently, making sure not to touch his bruises. Timmy wanted to flinch at first, but he realised how safe he felt at Nick’s touch. “You and Armie, that was a complicated thing. Stop beating yourself up over it. You think you don’t deserve to be happy, is that it? You haven’t forgiven yourself?”

Timmy shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know.” It was hard to talk with Nick holding on to his entire jawline like that. “Maybe…” 

“Nonsense,” Nick told him straight. “Of course you deserve to be happy. You’re a beautiful soul, Timmy. You’re funny, you’re generous – you have an open mind. Liberate yourself, man! Spread your wings…”

A couple of drinks later, Timmy had gone back to giggling. Nick had knocked over a glass by accident, causing sticky liquid to spill into his lap and all over the table. Nick had stood up and exposed a rather large wet spot by his crotch and Timmy had nearly wet himself laughing.

“Ha ha, very funny. Hey Chalamet, do you know how much I paid for these pants?” Nick lamented with a groan.

“I’m sorry,” Timmy chuckled, clasping a hand over his mouth, “let me get you some napkins.” 

Timmy had been unable to walk straight as he made his way towards the bar. One of the waiters was already aware of the accident and stood ready with a kitchen roll to hand to Timmy. Timmy accepted it gratefully and tried to apologise for the inconvenience, but his speech was too incoherent, stifled by his drunken, immature sniggering. 

He returned to Nick with the promise of cleaning up the mess for him.

“Shit,” Nick uttered, “everyone’s looking at us. They are going to refuse to serve us any more drinks now.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Timmy admitted. “Nick, you’re wasted.”

“I’m wasted? Look at you, you’re not even wiping where the table is wet!” Nick mocked him. “Can you even see straight?” 

“I can see just fine!” Timmy huffed. This time, he finally managed to soak up some of the liquid using a heap of kitchen roll. “Anyway, you should thank me. You’re the one who knocked your glass over, but I’m the one doing the work.” 

“Tim – Timmy! Stop! You’re actually spilling more into my lap!” Nick sprung up from his seat once again. “You’re shoving instead of wiping, man. Let the paper soak, you’re getting rum all over the seats.”

Timmy dropped his handful of wet paper. 

“S-sorry, Nick. Here – let me help you.” He tore off some more paper and reached for Nick’s thigh in order to help him dry. “You shouldn’t have worn white trousers,” he slurred, “this is never going to come off.”

“Yeah, thanks for the advice,” Nick chortled. “A little late, but thanks!” Then: “Wow, Timmy, you have such soft hands.” 

“Hold still,” Timmy scolded him, moving further up Nick’s leg with some more kitchen roll. “If we don’t get you cleaned up, people are going to think you’ve wet yourself, man.” 

“Ah, who cares? Hey, Timmy – is it just me or is that waiter looking at us weird?” 

It wasn’t just the waiter, but in fact everyone surrounding them. Timmy didn’t realise what he must have looked like crouching down before Nick like that, on his knees, touching him, until a middle-aged man – short, plump, bald, bad-mannered – walked up behind him and began to wrap his fingers around Timmy’s arm suggestively. 

“You can rub my groin next, sweetheart,” he said, adding a disgusting laughter. “I’m wetter than your friend here.”

When his other hand went into Timmy’s hair, petting him vulgarly, Timmy let out a gasp and tore himself away from both Nick and the stranger all at once.

“Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Nick exclaimed as he pushed the intruder away from them. “Don’t fucking touch him like that!” 

“Oh come on! He looks like he enjoys it,” the man taunted rudely, completely without regret, “or maybe you just want him for yourself?” The man returned to Timmy and winked at him. “Do you want my number, darling?”

“N-no!” Timmy stammered in horror.

“Get out of here!” Nick shouted as he waived his arms about madly, shooing the creep away like he was a pigeon. “He wants nothing to do with you, do you hear me?” 

“Alright, alright, fine,” the man chuckled carelessly as he walked away from them casually, ignoring the way that everyone in the bar was staring, “didn’t realise you two were solid. My bad.” 

Timmy’s legs were shaking by now and he shuffled back into his seat, believing he was about to stumble over.

“Nick,” he croaked, “he thinks we’re a couple!” 

Nick’s eyes widened and if possible, he seemed even more offended than before. 

“Hey, mister!” He bellowed, though the man continued to walk away from them, looking like he had lost all interest. “Just because two bros have got each other’s backs does not mean you get to imply that anything sexual is going on! If your friends don’t offer to help you when you spill rum in your lap, well then I feel sorry for you!” 

Nick sat back down with a great huff.

“What a dickhead!” He hissed.

Timmy was watching him disbelievingly.

“Nick, I think we’ve just caused a scene,” he whispered tensely. 

“So what?” Nick told him. “Timmy, aren’t you furious about what just happened? He had no right to creep on you like that. He’s like, what? Twice your age?” 

“Of course I’m furious,” Timmy responded somewhat meekly, “but what am I supposed to do? I have already made a complete fool of myself…”

“You’re supposed to get angry,” Nick announced strictly. “See, this is exactly what we’ve been talking about. You need to stand up for yourself and start telling people no.”

“I did tell him no,” Timmy objected. “I mean, kind of.”

“Not good enough,” Nick sighed. “He only got the message when I told him off. Come on, buddy – where is the anger? I’m not feeling it.”

“I am angry,” Timmy insisted weakly. “Or, I was-“

“Don’t be so quick to forgive and forget. You say you can look out for yourself? Prove it!” Nick dared him. “You have a million things to be angry about, right? The photographers, people harassing you in the street. Travis.”

Timmy shuddered as soon as he heard the name.

“Nick. Don’t…”

“Travis overstepped the line, too. And he got away with it. Don’t let it happen again.” This time, Nick’s words sounded more like a prayer. “Fine, if Travis is too much for you, then – think about Armie. All the times he’s treated you like a child or ignored your feelings. Remember how he tried to stop you from going out tonight? Yeah? Feeling the anger yet?”

Timmy clenched his jaw, hesitating. Perhaps Nick was right. Perhaps this was the moment – time for him to finally put his foot down and put an end to all the madness. The man was still around. It wasn’t too late to walk up to him and tell him what was what. Besides, Nick was there to support him.

“That man touched my hair,” Timmy uttered with a small groan, wincing with disgust. “I mean, who does that?”

“Right?” Nick agreed eagerly. “There you go! Go up and tell him to keep his chubby fingers to himself! You can do it, Timmy!”

“I – I can do it,” Timmy repeated slowly. “Yeah – you know what? I’m gonna do it.”

“Oh my God,” Nick cheered. “I’m so proud of you, man! Go on – show him some of that anger you’ve been keeping to yourself! Let it all out.” 

“Yeah!” Timmy slammed his palms against the table and stood up with determination. 

For half a second, the room was spinning before his eyes. He blinked a couple of times and braved up once again. This was for all the times he’d been branded a slut, a liar, a gold digger, and for all the times people had insulted him, humiliated him and backstabbed him by ratting him out to the press. This was for all the Travises in the world who preyed on anyone young and insecure enough to actually ignore the abuse they’d receive and this was for all the Armies who made you laugh and cry and fall in love, only to realise that no emotion in the world can stay purely good, that nothing can ever stay gold… Timmy had had enough heartbreak, enough of obedience and self-deprecation – and so, he marched up to the table where the bald man was sat with his friends, and he wiped the stupid grin off his face by slamming another hand down against the table, causing everyone to jump with surprise.

“NO!” He shouted from the top of his lungs, feeling immediately empowered as he locked eyes with his harasser. “No, I DO NOT want your number! Do you know why? Because your behaviour, sir, is sleazy and gross and completely out of order! You walked by and you saw someone half your age down on their knees and you just let yourself get carried away by your dirty fantasies? How dare you! I am NOT here to service anyone – you do NOT get to grab my arm and have your way with me! I do NOT sleep around and I most certainly do NOT pick up slimy strangers in shady bars…”

“Hey! Who the fuck are you calling slimy, boy?”

The voice was different. Timmy didn’t notice.

“LET ME TALK!” He hollered, hammering his fist against the table even harder. “I am not a fucking pushover! You think I’ll take any of your shit? You think you can just do whatever you like because you’re too horny to care? You don’t even fucking know who I am! I am Lil Timmy Tim and I won’t let you fucking mess with m-“

“TIMMY! No – stop!” Nick cried, jumping in from the sideline. He wrapped his arms around the younger man and pulled him away. “Stop talking!”

“Nick, what are you doing?” Timmy sputtered, resisting hard. “I need to tell this son of a bitch to back the hell off-“

“No! No, Timmy, listen to me,” Nick protested again as he pulled the brunette close against him, “that’s the wrong guy. Over there is your guy,” Nick pointed towards a table by the windows and when Timmy looked up, he finally recognised the man who’d petted him against his will and made crude suggestions, and as Timmy locked eyes with the bastard, he had the nerve to laugh and to waive at him mockingly. 

“How’s it going for ya, sweetheart?” They heard him joking from across the room.

Shit. 

Timmy took another look at the man before him; an innocent man that he’d been showering with insults. He and his friends didn’t look happy at all. 

Suddenly, Timmy couldn’t breathe.

“Fuck,” he wheezed, clawing at Nick’s shirt as he thought he was on the verge of losing it completely. “I’m – so – sorry…”

“Hey! What’s going on here?” One of the waiters called from the bar, looking concerned. “Is this young man bothering you, sir?”

Oh fuck!

“Fuck it, let’s get out of here!” Nick blurted out as he started running, hauling Timmy along, though he acted like he’d been nailed to the floor. “Timmy, come on! Move your ass!” To himself he thought: ‘Armie’s gonna kill me if Timmy gets his nose broken by these men.’

 

*

 

Timmy had started puking as soon as they stopped running. Nick had pulled him into an alleyway as he’d been worried that the photographers from earlier would be waiting for them by the high street. He had seen Timmy go pale and had known immediately that the brunette was about to be sick.

Now, Timmy was bending over, slumping himself against the brick wall as he turned away from Nick and started to retch hideously. His vomiting sounded nasty and deeply unpleasant, so Nick came up behind him and started to rub his back in circles. 

“Dude, are you alright?”

More heaving and gagging. Timmy began to cough miserably. The kid was absolutely smashed. 

“Nick, you could have gotten me killed…” Whimpered the young man, wiping at his mouth once he’d finished. Slowly, he straightened himself up and looked over his shoulder.

He looked ashen and sickly. 

“No – you could have gotten yourself killed,” Nick corrected him, though he continued to rub Timmy’s back fondly, “by walking over to the wrong table and scolding a guiltless man. I mean honestly, what were you thinking?” 

“You told me to do it,” Timmy said accusingly. “You should have known that I was in no condition to think clearly…”

“Well, excuse me for not predicting Lil Timmy Tim making an appearance,” Nick teased him. “No wonder those dudes were looking at you like you were some sort of maniac. You went absolutely apeshit on them.” 

Suddenly, Timmy did the last thing Nick would have anticipated. He broke down laughing. 

“Oh fuck,” he emitted, doubling over just like the first time he had found himself corpsing on stage as a kid, completely unable to contain his laughter. “The first time I actually pull myself together and confront someone,” he paused with a chuckle before completing the irony, “I target the wrong person and it’s all for nothing…”

Timmy took a deep breath and stepped away from the pool of sick by his feet. Tearing himself away from Nick, he walked over to the opposite wall and sat down on the ground with a prolonged sigh. 

Nick couldn’t help but to crack up as he went over to join the brunette. 

“It’s a shame, truly,” he guffawed and squatted down next to Timmy, “you were doing so great otherwise… If only you had picked the right baldie.” 

Timmy giggled and slapped Nick’s arm.

“I’m never doin’ that again…”

“Why not?” Nick cried. “Come on, man, it was brilliant. I’ve never seen you more intimidating. You went absolutely ballistic, it was beautiful… Beautiful and kind of scary.”

Timmy shook his head and rubbed his wrist against his forehead.

“Please don’t EVER tell Armie about any of this,” he begged with a hint of fatigue. “This has to stay between you and me.”

“Why? Are you saving it all for next time Armie screws up so you can give him the live performance?” Nick cackled and ruffled Timmy’s curls. 

“Shut up,” Timmy smiled. “I told you, I’m never doing it again.”

“Yes you are,” Nick opposed him. “Next time someone underestimates you, you let Lil Timmy Tim loose. Promise me you will.” 

Timmy merely rolled his eyes at him. Then he exhaled as he leant over to rest his head against the older man’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Nick,” he muttered tiredly. 

Nick wrapped his arm around him somewhat protectively. They remained this way for another five minutes. Then Nick chose his moment to speak again:

“Come on, bro. Can’t fall asleep here. I gotta make sure you get home safe.”

Forty minutes later and Timmy and Nick both stumbled out of a taxi as they were dropped off outside Armie and Elizabeth’s house. Timmy tripped over his own feet and Nick caught him mid-air, causing both men to laugh noisily as they walked up the driveway towards the front door, one step at a time. 

Timmy looked up towards the entrance and right there and then, he nearly took a tumble for the second time. 

It was Armie. Sat on the top step outside the front door, looking kind of forlorn and out of sorts. He was holding one of his special cigarettes in between his fingers, though he wasn’t inhaling. He looked like he had been deep in thought before they’d barged through the front gate and disturbed him. His face was pensive, serious. Oddly morose. Was he high? Drunk? Both? How long had he been sat out here? Had he actually been waiting for them to return? The dinner party was long over and the entire house was probably fast asleep.

As soon as they’d spotted him there, he looked up to stare back at them. The look on his face didn’t change one bit. For a moment, Timmy thought his eyes were completely hollow. 

“Arms? You okay, man?” Nick broke the silence. “You waited up for us? You shouldn’t have.” 

Armie didn’t seem to find it funny.

“It’s three in the morning,” sounded that deep, resonant voice that never failed to make Timmy feel hopelessly drawn to the blond man, to his speech and tone. “You must have been enjoying yourselves, I gather.”

There it was. Timmy could tell just how high Armie was by the way he delivered his words ever so deliberately; they were calm, yet sharp enough to cut through bone. Timmy realised that he was in no state to talk to Armie; not like this.

“I – I should really go brush my teeth,” he uttered faintly, feeling much too tired to make any more excuses for himself, excuses that Armie wouldn’t have cared for, anyway. “Thanks again, Nick.” 

“Don’t mention it, kiddo.”

Nick pulled Timmy in for a one-armed hug before letting him rush past Armie and slip inside. Once he’d disappeared and it was just the two of them, Nick crouched down next to Armie and was about to ask for a drag when Armie simply threw the rest of the cigarette to the ground and put it out using the heel of his shoe. 

“How was your night?” Nick asked him with slight concern, sensing Armie’s gloominess. “Did you enjoy your party?” 

Armie acted as though he hadn’t even heard him.

“He hates me,” was all he moaned dejectedly before finally letting the cracks show through his cool exterior. Slumping his shoulders, Armie fell forwards and let his elbows rest against his knees while his hands began rummaging through his hair almost manically. 

He kept his head down, hiding from Nick.

“Who – Timmy? He doesn’t hate you,” Nick’s reply sounded firmly. “No one hates you, man, but he in particular does not hate you. I swear you’re thick sometimes.”

“I know I am. I’m a fucking moron, aren’t I? I – I feel so stupid…”

Armie’s voice broke and he began to pull at his blond strands of hair in frustration. 

“Armie – stop that…”

“No! It’s true – I’m a huge fucking idiot, and a jerk, and that’s why he hates me!” 

“I told you, he doesn’t hate you.”

“Well, maybe he should! Because I hate me…”

Without further warning, Armie let out an anguished sob as he appeared to lose it altogether. Nick had no other choice but to pull his best friend in for a tight embrace that seemed as desperate as it was crushing. Armie buried his face into Nick’s shoulder, letting his hot tears be absorbed by the material of his shirt, and he stayed there for either minutes or hours – however long it took for him to even out his breathing and numb himself from the fear – the sheer terror – of having already pushed away the person who’d once brought so much light into his life, Armie’s vision had filled with blind spots and caused him to overlook the most unforgivable thing of all; Timothée.


End file.
